“How fortunate I am, Miss Pellissier! All day I have been hoping that I might run across you. Even then she had understood vaguely that she had touched upon some philosophy of life: that one was never lonely when alone, only in the midst of crowds. It was the blouse that gave Lucy away. The birds were singing blithely amid the trees,—the lowing of the cows resounded from the yard,—a delicious perfume from the garden was wafted through the open window,—at a distance, the church-bells of Willesden were heard tolling for evening service. The doctor smoked his pipe thoughtfully. “Often,” he repeated, a little heavily. The Well Hole. Goopes, she was sure was always high-browed and slow and Socratic.
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