‘Because I’m a female,’ declared Lucilla unanswerably. ’ ‘Don’t talk soft,’ begged Martha. 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. She walked with long swinging steps, scorning the thought of buses or the tube. How did you get your luggage out of the house? Wasn’t it—wasn’t it rather in some respects—rather a lark? It’s one of my regrets for my lost youth. It would make the young wife unhappy. And through it all, like a golden thread on a piece of tapestry, weaving in and out of the patterns, the unspoken longing for love. Then she raised the glass nearer to her lips.
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