\"You know what I like about guys, certain guys?\" Lucy looked in her direction again. She’s naïve, and yet uncannily shrewd at times, and you daren’t rely on anything she says. Will you please—Not now, or I must go. Stanley came home at a quarter to six—an earlier train by fifteen minutes than he affected—his sister met him in the hall with a hushed expression. “MY DEAR MISS STANLEY,” it began,—“I hope you will forgive my bothering you with a letter, but I have been thinking very much over our conversation at Lady Palsworthy’s, and I feel there are things I want to say to you so much that I cannot wait until we meet again. ” Annabel had been lying curled up on the lounge, the personification of graceful animal ease. She thought gleefully of the dress she would get to wear for the Ball (Prom?) and could not wait to tell her foster family about how excited she was.
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