But such is the perversity of the human that frequently thereafter he purposely crooked the part in his hair, to give her the excuse to fetch the comb. She held it away from her with an instinctive repulsion, born of her unconquerable antipathy to the touch of strangers. For a while they stood there, silent, motionless, staring at the doorway where still a few strings of the bamboo curtain swayed and twisted, agitated by the Wastrel's passage. She doesn't love you; she hasn't the least idea what it means beyond what she has read in novels. And then if some day Capes wanted her—saw fit to alter his views upon friendship. ’ ‘What of your grandfather?’ Her lips parted in surprise. Primarily it was her own problem, and in particular the answer she had to give to Mr. “I don’t think I shall. “So, how’d it go?” Lucy sighed.
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