She found herself again in the presence of some element in life about which she had been trained not to think, about which she was perhaps instinctively indisposed to think; something which jarred, in spite of all her mental resistance, with all her preconceptions of a clean and courageous girl walking out from Morningside Park as one walks out of a cell into a free and spacious world. She’s a snob. “What happened to your parents, Lucy? Is it all right if I ask?” Lucy looked at her with a soft gaze. Don’t think it was anything better than fever—or a bit beautiful. Crossing several fields, newly mown, or filled with lines of tedded hay, she arrived, not without great exertion, at the summit of a hill. But for Ruth, he, Howard Spurlock, might have ended upon the beach, inescapably damned. "Sir Rowland must be gone. Somebody to depend upon her; somebody to have need of her, if only for a little while. Lucy thought of a song that she had not been able to get out of her head since the Fifties.
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