” The cabman, knocking with the butt end of his whip upon the window, reminded her that he was in a similar predicament. Lucy found solace in the lack of sunshine, but the November cold was over the top, even for Illinois. The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. His ideas about girls and women were of a sentimental and modest quality; they were creatures, he thought, either too bad for a modern vocabulary, and then frequently most undesirably desirable, or too pure and good for life. And then they disgorged. Gerald watched her vanish into the darkness, unusually incensed. He backed away from her. It had rained during the night, and the patch-work pavement was greasy with mud. ‘Would you care for some refreshment? A glass of wine, perhaps?’ ‘Nothing, merci, I do not remain,’ she answered, although she did not rise. I was happy to oblige them, I had grown sick of the heat of the south and all the miserable sun.
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