of their lives; she at times put such questions to Lucy or cast such a glance upon her, that the blood rushed to Lucy’s face. Then she began to flash confidences upon her, and to hint and indicate this and that,—and bidding with all that for Lucy’s confidence, she asked in veiled terms, and with the naïveté of a young girl, for the secrets of free love.
Lucy opened her eyes wide in shame, terror, and surprise.
The doctor’s wife made her questions clearer.
Lucy, fixing her eyes upon the white tablecloth, whispered: “Madam, spare me. I cannot speak of these things. . . .”
“You do not need to act the virtuous person before me,” whispered the doctor’s wife with biting irony, and walked gracefully away.
“My dear aunt,” Lucy gently shook the old lady’s hand; “Aunty dear, let us go away from here, I beg you. My head is in a whirl.”
