“No, don’t interrupt me. You say that this gentleman was with you?” “I was,” Brendon answered, “most providentially. Nobody could possibly find him now. He walked through a wide open archway, curtained with deep-blue curtains, into the apartment that served as a reception-room. Loving was self-forgetfulness, pure delighting in another human being. ‘Why do you think I told you about the portrait? I’d not seen it, of course, but I’d seen Miss Mary just before she got married, which is when it was painted. “How are you, Lucy?” Martin ran to catch her in the crowded hall.
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