" "Well," said Sister Prudence, "remember, I tried to save you some future heartaches. The young man opposite was straining his ears to listen to their conversation. It was long and narrow, a well-lit, wellventilated, quiet gallery of small tables and sinks, pervaded by a thin smell of methylated spirit and of a mitigated and sterilized organic decay. Loneliness—something that was almost physical: as if the vitality had been taken out of the air she breathed. She shuddered. She felt like Snow White in a secret forest house populated by dwarves. And through it all, like a golden thread on a piece of tapestry, weaving in and out of the patterns, the unspoken longing for love. Mr. “You will write to me, I am sure—and from the date of your letter I trust most earnestly that I may come back to my old place as “Your devoted friend, “WALTER BRENDON. Lucy sat paralyzed, as still as Tiger Lily on the death raft. .
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