266 She peered up at him. I saw her face and it was the face that had been hidden from me in dreams, a face very much like yours, Lucia. “You are not boring me,” she said, “but I would rather talk of something else. Think if your own mother was alive!” He paused, deeply moved. Stanley came home at a quarter to six—an earlier train by fifteen minutes than he affected—his sister met him in the hall with a hushed expression. After all—’ ‘Yes, but I do not wish to see him,’ Melusine protested. Two or three podgy-looking old men with wives to match, half-a-dozen overdressed girls, and a couple of underdressed American ones, who still wore the clothes in which they had been tramping half over London since breakfast time.
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