It is not the woman who speaks there. “You go home and think of all this,” he said, “and talk about it to-morrow. ’ ‘Quite right, Gerald,’ approved Lucilla. ‘What are you, a nincompoop? She was Nicholas’s wife, of course. He could not see these two shrinking misses capering about in a nun’s habit and brandishing a defiant pistol. He grasped Lucilla’s elbow. She contrived to break down the barriers of shyness at last in one direction, and talked one night of love and the facts of love with Miss Miniver. “You little wretch!” she exclaimed weakly. E.
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