\" \"Oh, that is pretty. " "I am not unprotected," rejoined the poor woman; "there's some one at the window. Inexplicably there flashed into vision the Chinese wedding procession in the narrow, twisted streets of the city, that first day: the gorgeous palanquin, the tomtoms, the weird music, the ribald, jeering mob that trailed along behind. Every time you mention the father, she turns into marble. It never has had. He envied her a little. “You’re self-taught, aren’t you, Lucy?” She looked around the table, all eyes upon her. It was a habit of his to talk to himself. The Well Hole. A smile trembled at the corners of her mouth as she recalled Gerald’s ridiculous upbraiding of his own reflection in the mirror.
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