“What ought she to do?” “Suppose you—” “Yes, suppose I—” He felt that his advice was being asked. The room was dark and dusty. She hesitated. “Do you think you’ll ever get married, Lucy?” Lucy shifted uncomfortably as she pulled her makeshift nightgown—an old T-shirt—over her head. Pardon what I have said, Madam. ” They stared at each other through a pause, and both faces were flushed and obstinate. Wanting his coat, when he must have known that the pockets were empty! But the effort to talk had cost him something. Conscience was always digging sudden pits for his feet and common sense ridiculing his fears. With the last glimmer of decency he had sent the daughter to his sister.
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