\" Lucy fought to resist the compulsion to 45 fold her arms over her chest. His face changed and she saw, with a stab at her heart, the dawning of irritation in his eyes. She had a few acquaintances, English gentlemen, but she lived with her sister—was a lady. Their flitting hands were always touching. This double buffetting had sharpened her shrewdness and insight. He was not addicted to monologue, and the only audible comment he permitted himself at first upon a universe that was evidently anything but satisfactory to him that afternoon, was one compact and entirely unassigned “Damn!” The word must have had some gratifying quality, because he repeated it.
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