“What has he to do with it?” “He was your sister’s master—her friend. Montague Hill?” Annabel put her hand suddenly to her throat and steadied herself with the back of a chair. I forget the particulars, but I know it was something very disagreeable. Borrow. And in reality even that magic garden-close resolves itself into a villa at Morningside Park and my father being more and more cross and overbearing at meals—and a general feeling of insecurity and futility. The sea was no longer rolling brass; it was bluer than anything he had ever seen. “What nonsense is this? What raving! My dear child, you DO live, you DO exist! You have this home. Soon they came to treat Lucy almost as mother, pulling hard at her brown curls and laughing delightedly as they sprang back into their spiral shape. Lucy collapsed to the floor in a sob. Ran in the family. The vestry door opened to the mews behind, and not to Golden Square.
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