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“Why shouldn’t one face the facts of one’s self?” She stood up. They had been informally introduced during floor hockey, when Katy had sent a puck flying into Lucy’s face. She pulled him down by his lapels and arched her head readily towards his neck. You—It’s jolly of you to confide in me. 277 “I was beginning to think that I would never see you again, Lucy. One morning, as he took his stand on the Hong-Kong packet dock to ambush the possible tourist, he witnessed the arrival of a tubby schooner, dirty gray and blotched as though she had run through fire. He laughed suddenly, and released her. “It was perhaps my fault. She had a feeling as though something had dropped from her eyes, as though she had just discovered herself for the first time—discovered herself as a sleepwalker might do, abruptly among dangers, hindrances, and perplexities, on the verge of a cardinal crisis. Perhaps Ferringhall has pensioned her off.

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