There’s something—puppyish in a man’s usual attitude to women. He was safe, out of the beaten track, at last really comparable to the needle in the haystack. I was rude and stupid. How dare you use my name and sing my songs?” Anna looked at her sister in blank amazement. ‘If you’ll have the goodness, missie, to move yourself out of the way,’ he said aggrievedly, ‘and let us at him, we might have a chance of doing just that. Only a book detective could dope this out. You know I am in love with you. “You’re great, Lucy! I had no idea you were so great!” John exclaimed. Her glance, absorbing the gilt letters and their significance, communicated to her poised body a species of paralysis.
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