Lucy's ears were singing. “There was a keg, hash, LSD, pot, you know, the usual. I believe that her ladyship is going to Carey House, and on to the Marquis of Waterford’s ball,” he added, hastily consulting a diary on the hall table. Her heart was beating with quite unaccustomed vigour, her hands were hot, she was conscious of a warmth in her blood which the summer sunshine was scarcely responsible for. And then presently these clouds began to wear thin and expose steep, deep slopes, going down and down, with grass and pine-trees, down and down, and at last, through a great rent in the clouds, bare roofs, shining like very minute pin-heads, and a road like a fibre of white silk-Macugnana, in Italy. “Next door,” said a spectacled young person of seventeen or eighteen, with an impatient indication of the direction. Here was not the individual against whom she had been warned. The pleasure intensified quickly, it was as much control as she dared to lose as she heard herself calling his name with all her breath. “But why, Lucy? Who is it 145 that you are trying to hide from? John?” Lucy closed her eyes in earnest. . There was a stain of wine upon her dress. ’ ‘About me?’ The lady’s lashes fluttered and her fan came up. ” Lucy said as he fondled her breasts absentmindedly. “I was surprised, I admit,” he said.
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