The real tragedy—which he sensed and toward which he was always reaching—eluded all his verbal skill. " "Do not speak of it," rejoined Thames, with a look of horror. It cuts. Yet before she turned once more to resume her flight she schooled herself with an effort to look where it had happened. Lucy's ears were singing. He had already shown the covering envelope and its instructions to Ruth, and she had ignored or misunderstood the warning. It had been a very long time. Her heart in her mouth, she heard his foot scrape on the floorboard and knew from his expression that Gosse had heard it too. “And now,” she said, splintering the surviving piece of coal into indignant flame-spurting fragments with one dexterous blow, “what am I to do? “I’m in a hole!—mess is a better word, expresses it better.
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