’ ‘The horse?’ echoed Melusine. ‘But only think, Hilary,’ Lucy protested, evidently too involved in her theory to waste time in scolding. Her eyes were wide open with amazement. She went about in a negligent November London that had become very dark and foggy and greasy and forbidding indeed, and tried to find that modest but independent employment she had so rashly assumed. At last she was roused. “I want to ask you a question,” she said abruptly. “Vee!” said Miss Stanley, “you hear what your father says!” Miss Stanley struggled with emotion.
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