She did not enter the cabin at once, but paused on the threshold and stared at the silent, recumbent figure in the bunk. Not much. She walked with long swinging steps, scorning the thought of buses or the tube. Aware of the footman hovering, and the hackney coachman’s curious eyes looking down from his box, Gerald leaned a little towards her and spoke in a lowered tone. And, after all, a fine clear sky of bright colors is the signal to come out of hiding and rejoice and go on with life. She had a feeling as though something had dropped from her eyes, as though she had just discovered herself for the first time—discovered herself as a sleepwalker might do, abruptly among dangers, hindrances, and perplexities, on the verge of a cardinal crisis. “Why aren’t you in Orchestra, Lucy?” “I just. Nothing seemed to be amiss. ’ ‘What, a common soldier?’ ‘He was not a common soldier. I followed you home on the train. The guineas are not for serving your mistress. Capes looked at one and not over one, spoke to one, treated one as a visible concrete fact.
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