“This,” he exclaimed, “must be either the indifference of an utterly callous nature, or it may be—ye gods, it may be—innocence. Somehow logic could not explain her. She taught him all the lore she had; about bird-life and tree-life and the changing mysteries of the sea. He drew a little breath of relief. Then Courtlaw looked across at her with a white puzzled face. Vorsack. What beasts men are! I cannot typewrite, my three stories are still wandering round, two milliners have refused me as a lay figure because business was so bad. Maybe half a year, counting this summer. I’m sorry Lucy.
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