She wanted to stay where she was; but tears were dangerous; the more she wept, the weaker she would become defensively. “I gave your name. " "Ha!" ejaculated Trenchard. ‘I did not send you a card because in the normal way of things you rarely attend such affairs. ” Lucy cried, drawing attention from the somber crowd. . ‘Lord,’ he uttered, glancing about with a disparaging eye. She walked down the station approach, past the neat, obtrusive offices of the coal merchant and the house agent, and so to the wicket-gate by the butcher’s shop that led to the field path to her home.
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