Hurt beyond what he could imagine by the selfishness and pride of her forbears, whose fateful disputes had robbed her of the life she should have led, the plucky little devil had taken matters into her own hands. Mark stayed away from Lucy, which was just as Sheila liked it. And, stretching out his hand, he lifted the dark object from the flood. “You are coming in, aren’t you, Sydney?” “If I may,” he answered. One post-midnight meeting, she could stand it no longer. So he made merry at the dinner table, told comic stories, and was astonished at the readiness with which she grasped the comic side of life.
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