“When did you get home last night, Lucy?” Cathy interrogated through a yawn. “And aren’t there fees to pay at the Imperial College?” her aunt was saying—a disagreeable question. She bolted awake in the large bed which was awash in a sea of silks, furs, and red curtains. She had traversed perhaps three bookshelves, passed across the door that must lead to the hall, turned the corner, and was just about to reach the fireplace when she abruptly became aware that something under her fingers had felt wrong. But now it’s beads by the cask—like the hold of a West African trader. I wish I could get you to imitate Thames Darrell. “To think that you were going to do it—and never said a word! You are a little thin, but except for that you look—you look better than ever. Something namelessly abhorrent in the eyes of those men…! She knew what arms were for—to fold and embrace and to hold one tightly; but why men wished to kiss women was still a profound mystery. She was afraid people would follow her, she was afraid of the dark, open doorways she passed, and afraid of the blazes of light; she was afraid to be alone, and she knew not what it was she feared. Any one very badly moved choked down a few mouthfuls; the symptom of supreme distress was not to be able to touch a bit.
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