“But where are you going? Lucy, you’re safe here. "You must not remain here," he said. "What is she saying to me?" Ah Cum shrugged. She realized in a moment what had happened. ’ Gerald tutted. You don't want me to spoil the story, do you?" "No. ” Lucy chuckled at the sacrilegious comment, though it was a very old one. " "Yes. What you want to do is to imagine every woman a Becky Sharp and every man a Rawdon Crawley. " "I am not unprotected," rejoined the poor woman; "there's some one at the window. ’ ‘But, no,’ She dimpled. At Christmas he gave her a set of a small edition of Meredith’s novels, very prettily bound in flexible leather, being guided in the choice of an author, as he intimated, rather by her preferences than his own. “Oh! I wish,” she said, “that people thought alike about these things. He walked out into the Champs Elysées and sat down. " CHAPTER XV.
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