Day after day—five, to be exact—she had returned to Morgan's; and each time the man would understand what had drawn her, and with a kindly smile would sit down at the piano and play. Gray and tranquil world! Amazing, passionless world! A world in which days without meaning, days in which “we don’t want things to happen” followed days without meaning—until the last thing happened, the ultimate, unavoidable, coarse, “disagreeable. There was a moment’s breathless and disappointed silence. She felt she must fly before it and could no longer do so. "What proof have you of the truth of this story?" inquired Trenchard. He looked at her with an expression of comical despair. Nothing anyone could say or do would change him. They're apt to be surly to strangers, but it soon wears off. ‘You mean—’ ‘Hilary!’ Lucy turned excited eyes back to Alderley.
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