As concertmaster, it was Lucy’s duty to seat the orchestra as well as tune them. "I love you like a son, and will follow you like a dog. She seemed to assume that it must certainly be something she had said. She leaped to a world of shabby knowledge, of furtive base realizations. Pilgrim's Progress, The Life of Martin Luther and Alice in Wonderland (the only fairy-story she had been permitted to read) were the sum total of her library. “What have I been all this time?” she asked herself, and answered, “Just stark egotism, crude assertion of Ann Veronica, without a modest rag of religion or discipline or respect for authority to cover me!” It seemed to her as though she had at last found the touchstone of conduct. She became aware of the modelling of his ear, of the muscles of his neck and the textures of the hair that came off his brow, the soft minute curve of eyelid that she could just see beyond his brow; she perceived all these familiar objects as though they were acutely beautiful things. "Your enemy!" she returned imperfectly comprehending him.
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