‘Leave it, imbecile. Perhaps marriage hurt. ‘Yes, do,’ approved Lucilla. He could talk to her as frankly as he could to a man, that she would not take offence at anything so long as it was in the form of explanation. ‘Ah, yes? To what do I pretend?’ ‘That,’ Gerald said regretfully, ‘I have not yet been able to fathom. Who could say that the girl's father had not once been a fashionable clergyman in the States and that drink had got him and forced him down, step by step, until—to use the child's odd expression—he had come upon the beach? She was cynical, this spinster.
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