Then she fell into a fever of remorse for the habit of bad language she had acquired. “Well, you have thought it over?” he said, sitting down beside her. The fellow Kimble, to whom Gerald was indebted, was gaping. " "You are right," replied Darrell; "the weakness is past. “But why, Lucy? Who is it 145 that you are trying to hide from? John?” Lucy closed her eyes in earnest. The other was to go into business—into a photographer’s reception-room, for example, or a costumer’s or hat-shop. She grasped at the right one, massaging where his grip had been and Gerald hoped he had not bruised her.
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