Perhaps it was loneliness. God, Lucy, that’s the stuff people wear to Phys. “Not like it’s your fault if you wake up one day and decide you hanker for a nice piece of ass, a ten-minute tumble. ‘Nothing of the sort,’ argued Gerald. Disappointed puppy-love, and all that. You, for instance, you live, you are not afraid to live. “It isn’t fair. " "Unpossible, master," rejoined Ben; "the tide's running down like a mill-sluice, and the wind's right in our teeth. Bête, she told herself fiercely. Her mother had died when she was thirteen, her two much older sisters had married off—one submissively, one insubordinately; her two brothers had gone out into the world well ahead of her, and so she had made what she could of her father. 207 She romanced a dark-haired farmer a few times, having long since forgotten his name.
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