” Chapter XXV THE STEEL EDGE OF THE TRUTH The manservant, with his plain black clothes and black tie, had entered the room with a deferential little gesture. Their soft, voluptuous bodies wove among each other to the faint notes of a lyre. This laughter released something that had been striving for expression—her own natural buoyancy. Lucy had passed the house once on the sidewalk, on a rare day when he was shoveling snow. He was vaguely uneasy; he knew not what about. His legs were fine and strong, he told her that he had been a warrior in ancient times, to which she snorted in disgust. Unless—would he hide from them as he had hidden from her? It was a big house, he said. A skeleton was propped against the mantelpiece. Then her fingers moved. I’ll do it.
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