His voice had changed, the joy had gone out of it; and she understood that something from the past had rolled up to spoil this hour. Wood then led the way up a rather high and, according to modern notions, incommodious flight of steps, and introduced his guest to a neat parlour, the windows of which were darkened by pots of flowers and creepers. Lucy sat paralyzed, as still as Tiger Lily on the death raft. The policeman raised his voice, slightly agitated. "He can't get out. How could you draw the curtain aside which hides the great and holy places of life—you, who have never loved?” “You have become French to the core,” she murmured. Presently her aunt sighed deeply and looked at the clock. I said, ‘It is no use your telling me about this walk and pretend I’ve been told about the ball, because you haven’t.
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