“You’re self-taught, aren’t you, Lucy?” She looked around the table, all eyes upon her. The child fell within a short distance of Darrell, who, hearing the splash, struck out in that direction, and caught it before it sank. “You decline to help us in any way, then,” he said. She saw herself building up a life upon that —a life restrained, kindly, beautiful, a little pathetic and altogether dignified; a life of great disciplines and suppressions and extensive reserves. Too many. . Ah! she looks this way, and puts her finger to her lips. She brought the unconscious man down. He wouldn’t like it if people did it to him. Twelve years ago! It is an awful retrospect. "Whatever your intelligence may be I will strive to bear it.
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