“It was a plot amongst them all to humiliate her. . . “You are a miracle! God spares few from the Pestilence. Lucy's grin faded. Where is Sebastianus? I am Rhea. Do you see why I have hidden the terrible things from you? I chose you because you are my perfect mate. But that other world, in spite of her resolute exclusion of it, was always looking round corners and peeping through chinks and crannies, and rustling and raiding into the order in which she chose to live, shining out of pictures at her, echoing in lyrics and music; it invaded her dreams, it wrote up broken and enigmatical sentences upon the passage walls of her mind.
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