The pouting cherry lips were slightly parted and the very faintest of panting breaths, together with the quick rise and fall of an alluring bosom, betrayed her fear. If she could not marry him, she would not marry any one. ‘Forgive my not rising to greet you,’ she said, holding out a claw-like hand. Marvel held her handkerchief to her eyes, and appeared in great distress. At this point Lucy, in an effort perhaps—foolhardy, in Gerald’s opinion—to pour oil on troubled waters, rose swiftly to her feet and came towards the old man, her hand held out.
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