\" Lucy said as they ascended the steps. Immediately beneath her lay Willesden,—the most charming and secluded village in the neighbourhood of the metropolis—with its scattered farm-houses, its noble granges, and its old grey church-tower just peeping above a grove of rook-haunted trees. She was acquiring truths, but in a series of shocks rather than by the process of analysis. There’s no sense in morality, I suppose, unless you are fundamentally immoral. At the same time,” she added, in a suddenly altered tone, “it isn’t anything whatever to do with you, is it?” “Why not?” he answered. ‘Jacques!’ Melusine dropped to her haunches beside his inert form, feeling for the wound. A cool gray light illuminated small portions of the stone floor. He would read the jokes and illustrate them; and after a time I could see the point of a joke without having it explained to me. For a time he and Miss Klegg contradicted one another.
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