I received a telegram, as you know, during dinner. A hand of iron fell upon the scowling young man’s shoulder. At last he took up his thoughts again: “I wonder if, some day, one won’t need to rebel against customs and laws? If this discord will have gone? Some day, perhaps—who knows?—the old won’t coddle and hamper the young, and the young won’t need to fly in the faces of the old. ’ ‘Lady Bicknacre too,’ said Lucilla, a delight in her voice that grated on Melusine. I never could. The old lady’s face was stiff with anger. She stepped back quickly, and her hand knocked a wine-glass from the table to smash noisily on the floor.
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