But she doesn’t and won’t divorce me. ” “Oh, well!” he said, a little doubtfully, “it’s just a phase,” and bent down and rested his hand on her shoulder for a moment, with his heart beating and his nerves a-quiver. The manager twisted his moustache. The primitive superstition of his Puritan forbears was his; and before this the buckler of his education disintegrated. It was an unspoken curfew in the Beck house on week nights. Lucy waited for the next Phys. She had learned this art in skirts, and knew well how not to be disadvantaged. There was nothing to be got out of the man.
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