He looked eager and flushed and troubled. The girl was like some north-country woodland pool, penetrated by a single shaft of sunlight—beautifully clear in one spot and mysteriously obscured elsewhere. She was extremely showily dressed, and her large hooped petticoat gave additional effect to her lofty stature. Lucy tried not to make her cringe noticeable. Yet the smoke was curling upwards in a faint innocent-looking cloud to the ceiling. She lunched at a creamery in Great Portland Street, and as the day was full of wintry sunshine, spent the rest of the lunch-hour in a drowsy gloom, which she imagined to be thought upon the problems of her position, on a seat in Regent’s Park.
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