Madge gave a long painful sigh.
"Oh, Lucia," she said. "Don't you love anybody? Not even him?"
What do you mean?" asked Lucia. "Isn't it just because I love him that I am so miserable? I don't understand you."
Madge shook her head.
"Then I can't explain," she said. "Now, my dear, let us leave all alone that is irremediable, and see what is left. You will not stop in London, I imagine. Have you not some friends or relations in the country to whom you could go? And I suppose you will not defend the case?"
But Lucia shook her head.
"About Charlie," she said, "nothing matters but that. Oh, Madge, do you think"
And then for the first time since the crash the tears came. Slow and difficult at first, but soon growing wild and tempestuous. It was long before she in the least recovered herself, and by this time it was late.
"Now you are more yourself, dear, I must go," said Madge. "If you want to see me again, send me word, and I will come if I can."
She would come if she could! She would come if she could! After she had left those words occurred again and again to Lucia, and the meaning of them dawned on her. It was clear enough after a while: she would come if she could do so secretly. She was sure it was that which she meant.
The next day she received a note from Messrs. Shapstone, asking her the name and address of her solicitor. In case—so ran the communication—she did not propose to employ a solicitor in the divorce proceedings which were instituted against her, Mr. W. M. Shapstone, who was himself waiting below, would request a few minutes' conversation with her.
Lucia sent down to say she would see him; the last time she saw him, she remembered, he was her guest down at Brayton for a Saturday till Monday.
He was announced, and bowed slightly to her. Somehow that cut Lucia like a whip.
"Please sit down and state your business as shortly as possible," she said.
Mr. Shapstone spoke to the wall apparently, and not to her.
"Lord Brayton wishes me to tell you," he said, "that if you
