Joan told me it was hung somewhere in the house, only I couldn’t remember where after all this time. Sir John filled his glass with trembling hand. I am Lucilla Froxfield, you must know. Kneebone took his leave. She took a deep breath. All her protests seemed stifled before she could find words to utter them. 136 They came out and said it: Lucy was needed at home to cook and clean. Spurlock slumped in his chair, weak and empty. He was really very proud of her, and extraordinarily angry and resentful at the innocent and audacious selfreliance that seemed to intimate her sense of absolute independence of him, her absolute security without him. Wait a moment. The whole affair interested him deeply.
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