“But why, Lucy? Who is it 145 that you are trying to hide from? John?” Lucy closed her eyes in earnest. She was wholly unable to conceal her knowledge of his presence. What she said is true. I must tell somebody—and you would understand. Yet, I suppose that at the present moment I am the most envied man in the room. She looked at me as though I were some unclean thing, as though my soul were weighted with every sin in the calendar. I suppose my creed is, ‘I believe rather indistinctly in God the Father Almighty, substratum of the evolutionary process, and, in a vein of vague sentimentality that doesn’t give a datum for anything at all, in Jesus Christ, His Son.
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