‘I do not know how you think you may help me,’ she said slowly. 255 “You have a very talented son,” was her opening line. "How old are you?" demanded Miss Prudence. The Victorians over-did it a little, I admit. It was a letter. “I’ve been playing since I was five, Lucy! You’re just more talented than I am. “How ridiculous! Fancy you with all that money! For heaven’s sake, though, do not go about playing the Don Quixote like this. A smile trembled at the corners of her mouth as she recalled Gerald’s ridiculous upbraiding of his own reflection in the mirror. Jack, whose clothes were covered with dust, and whose face was deathly pale from his recent exertion, looked more like a phantom than a living person. .
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