To escape one phase of loneliness she had plunged into another, so vast that her courage sometimes faltered. Lucy had just began to invoke a solace where John was concerned, doing her best to shelve him as not so special after all. Who was he to tread on her dreams? She had heroworshipped an unscrupulous adventurer, who had not hesitated to impose on her youth and her ignorance. " "It is strange," replied Winifred, artlessly. She felt that for a time at any rate her depressing struggle against continual failure was at an end. "Unless you have eaten a Syrian orange," he was always saying, "you have only a rudimentary idea of what an orange is. They hissed me!” “Beasts!” he muttered. Her momentary instinct was to run to him and be comforted, like the old times.
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