She stood, as it were, directed doorward, with her eyes watching every movement, listening to him, repelled by him and yet dimly understanding. 277 “I was beginning to think that I would never see you again, Lucy. A strong coarse man, and there were things in his eyes which made my blood run cold with terror. What she admired in her man was his resolute defense of his opinions. What had happened to it? She had broken it, certainly. I wish”— she found she had embarked on a bad sentence—“I wish we needn’t have quarrelled. ” She paused again. There are way-stations—even terminals.
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