\" Lucy lied. Only in her eyes there seemed to be some apprehension of the fact that the young man’s clothes and manners were alike undesirable things. The female’s words caught at his attention, and he no longer heard what the young Poussaint girl was saying to him. ‘Why, what have I said?’ ‘You said to me my name. A lucky escape. They are things faint and slight in themselves, as physical facts, but they are like the detonator of a bomb: they let loose the explosive. She could have dined alone in her room; but courage had demanded that she face the ordeal and have done with it. Both, perhaps?’ At that, her eyes darkened with fury. ‘Why do you think I told you about the portrait? I’d not seen it, of course, but I’d seen Miss Mary just before she got married, which is when it was painted. Why do you look so sad?” She opened her eyes wider and stifled her emotions. "Can't you see? I can't hurt her, if … if she cares! I can't tell her I'm a madman as well as a thief!… What a fool! What a fool!" A thief. “That was a moment of madness,” she said. ‘We?’ Gerald smiled.
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