But that other world, in spite of her resolute exclusion of it, was always looking round corners and peeping through chinks and crannies, and rustling and raiding into the order in which she chose to live, shining out of pictures at her, echoing in lyrics and music; it invaded her dreams, it wrote up broken and enigmatical sentences upon the passage walls of her mind. A single false step might have precipitated him into the street; or, if he had trodden upon an unsound part of the roof, he must have fallen through it. No mother would have sent her daughter into the world with such a wardrobe. Michelle was in sight, Lucy could hear her voice, high in the crowd, and saw her blond head bobbing among a sea of faces. It is with the building raised after this direful calamity that our history has to deal. “Want to see the upstairs?” “Sure. One must be on guard.
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