” “To a friend?” “To lodgings—alone. Could you pull over? She asked. “Lucy Albert. ” “I am your friend,” he said slowly, “whatever you may have to tell me. It was years before your time. Everybody, he felt, must be listening behind their papers. ‘But the major—’ ‘The major can say nothing at all. ‘You’ve found her out?’ ‘Tell us at once,’ urged Miss Froxfield. It did not cheer or fortify him with false courage and recklessness; it simply enveloped him in a mist of unreality.
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