” Lucy felt herself grow feverish inside. She heard his voice screaming her name into the twilight as she fled, his cries trailing like banners, weaving through the breeze that had begun to gently stir the dew on the ground. She did not question or analyze the craving; she took the plunge joyously. Lady Palsworthy was the widow of a knight who had won his spurs in the wholesale coal trade, she was of good seventeenth-century attorney blood, a county family, and distantly related to Aunt Mollie’s deceased curate. Fly! they shall knock me on the head—curse 'em!—before they shall touch you.
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