" On quitting the Lodge, Wild repaired to his own habitation. Who's the lucky boy, Lucy?\" Lucy looked at her slippered feet. So, at least, thought one of two persons who were seated together in a small back-parlour of the house at Dollis Hill. . She was powerless to move from her chair. His glance came up again and met hers. It was as much as I could do to prevent him flying out of the house there and then and coming after you. At this point Lucy, in an effort perhaps—foolhardy, in Gerald’s opinion—to pour oil on troubled waters, rose swiftly to her feet and came towards the old man, her hand held out.
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