She found herself again in the presence of some element in life about which she had been trained not to think, about which she was perhaps instinctively indisposed to think; something which jarred, in spite of all her mental resistance, with all her preconceptions of a clean and courageous girl walking out from Morningside Park as one walks out of a cell into a free and spacious world. Nothing, in short, was too extravagant to be related of it; and Jonathan, who delighted in investing himself and his residence with mystery, encouraged, and perhaps originated, these marvellous tales. “So she must have had you fairly young, right?” Lucy nodded again. Gianfrancesco had told her about it, how he had played in it as a child with his brothers. “I have stood it for a month, Anna,” he exclaimed.
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