Now, she was the very reverse of all this. She looked into his eyes, truly noticing their gray color for the first time. She fell with a plop onto her rear end in the mud and sat dumbly like a statue, water eddying around her. "Open my heart, Father of Mercy!" she murmured, in a humble tone, and with downcast looks, "and make me sensible of the error of my ways. She had set out to get a beautiful life, a free, untrammelled life, self-development, without counting the cost either for herself or others. She had, by the magic of recollection, set the picture of the typhoon between herself and her table companions: the terrible rollers thundering on the white shore, the deafening bellow of the wind, the bending and snapping palms, the thatches of the native huts scattering inland, the blur of sand dust, and those two outcasts defying the elements. She had, it was true, accepted doubtfully the pen he had offered. He returned, “Lucy, you knew I didn’t live anywhere near you?” “I was aware. ‘Of course.
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