Her first impulse was to fly to the window; and she was about to pass through it, at the risk of sharing the fate of the unfortunate lady, when her arm was grasped by some one in the act of ascending the ladder from without. “My arrival appears to be opportune,” he said stiffly. Lucy could see the anger in her silhouette, the punishments and the grounding being formulated for the now dead daughter. She yielded it without protest, as though unconsciously. Racing, he reached it perhaps a moment or two later. She was wearing a becoming tea-gown, and it was quite certain that Sir John would not be home for several hours at least. And I heard ‘Alcide’ sing, and that little dance she did.
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