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She clenched her hands together and leaned forward in her chair, gazing steadily into the fire. ” Sir John was speechless. “When did you get home last night, Lucy?” Cathy interrogated through a yawn. What a pity! For all her ignorance of material things—the human inventions which served the physical comforts of man—how much she knew about man himself! She had seen him bereft of all those spiritual props which permit man to walk on two feet instead of four—broken, without resilience. ‘The fact of it is,’ I said, ‘I’m the new playwright, Thomas More.
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