“Lord!” she said. The hand which the man had been holding hung limp and nerveless at her side. In her ears there was a medley of sound: wailing music, rumbling tom-toms and sputtering firecrackers. But this was important. She had need of a devoted cavalier and Jack had proved eminently valuable. Lucy did her best to avoid talking about it, but the subject was beguiling, as it almost always brought news about him from the grapevine within which Michelle was intravenously entwined. "Do not despair, my sweet soul," said Wood, in a soothing tone. And a custom had grown up of a general tea at four o’clock, under the auspices of a Miss Garvice, a tall and graceful girl of distinguished intellectual incompetence, in whom the hostess instinct seemed to be abnormally developed. Somehow logic could not explain her. “So she must have had you fairly young, right?” Lucy nodded again.
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