It was as if she had come upon the beautiful marble façade of a fairy palace, was invited to enter, and behind the door—nothing. She realized dimly that there was no personal thing behind his cry, that countless myriads of Mannings had “My God!”-ed with an equal gusto at situations as flatly apprehended. “I am so sorry to have startled you,” she said, “but I was startled myself. ’ ‘That’s fortunate,’ murmured Lucilla. I can’t imagine Londoners—particularly interested in me. But when she turned her thoughts to Morningside Park she perceived the tangled skein of life was now to be further complicated by his romantic importunity. She gloried in it: he needed her. They were bathing in the stream.
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