“I think that I will leave this letter for him,” she said. Winifred, accordingly, left the room, and a servant being despatched to the nearest tavern, soon afterwards returned with a crown bowl of the ambrosian fluid. Lucy savored the normalcy of the scene. ’ ‘What?’ ‘Neat little toy. Martha said to me that it must come to the bibliothéque. “Annabel,” she said brusquely. Nothing else so quickly establishes the condition of comradeship as the sharing of a laughable incident. Instinctively she knew—some human recollection she had inherited—that she must not disturb him in this man-agony.
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