“I should like to understand you,” he said. ’ ‘Lucilla,’ gasped Hilary, his cheeks reddening with wrath. The letter began: “MY DEAREST GIRL,—I cannot let you do this foolish thing—” She crumpled notes and letter together in her hand, and then with a passionate gesture flung them into the fire. A door, it may be remembered, opened from Wild's dwelling into this yard. Lucy had just began to invoke a solace where John was concerned, doing her best to shelve him as not so special after all. They say it hasn't been opened for eight years—but I won't be eight years in getting out of it. The wings stopped.
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