Recognising the handwriting, he glanced swiftly at the signature, and uttering an explosive curse, cast the paper from him. I don’t want to hear you. A struggle of the most terrific kind now ensued. Seeing provisions in the window, Jack ventured in and bought a loaf. Lucy’s guts ached with jealousy and bitterness, building in a knot that twisted in her stomach, rag-like. She had taken care he should have this momentous talk with her on a garden-seat commanded by the windows of the house. “But it is so difficult——” “Not at all,” he answered eagerly.
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