Lucy crouched by the side of the grave, her head in her hands, rocking back and forth. He recognised this object at once. Men had tried to kiss her— unshaven derelicts, some of them terrible—but she had always managed to escape. ’ ‘You’re incorrigible,’ scolded Hilary, beginning to follow. Think of those days in Paris. Ann Veronica felt suddenly an effect of tremendous pathos; she would have given anything to have been able to frame and make some appeal, some utterance that should bridge this bottomless chasm that had opened between her and her father, and she could find nothing whatever to say that was in the least sincere and appealing.
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