“Do not force me to take you seriously,” she continued. He, however, made no remark at the time, but instantly prepared to set out. To escape one phase of loneliness she had plunged into another, so vast that her courage sometimes faltered. “Can I bring you anything, sir—a whisky and soda, or a liqueur? You’ll excuse me, sir, but you haven’t touched your coffee. The storm appeared to have blown over, for they were conversing in a very amicable manner with Mr. Practically. He pulled away. She looked from Anna, who was far too nice-looking to be travelling about alone, to that reassuring pile of luggage, and wrinkled her brows thoughtfully. A young man was playing the banjo. Lucy thought of herself as belonging to Sebastian whether she liked it or not.
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