describe the love and
tenderness that was in them, nor the dog-like faithfulness--were eyes
that prayed. And they were the deepest, most brilliant blue--like
those Rheims windows that the Beast smashed the other day. She laughed
and said: "Hurry and her father don't care about each other--not _at_
all."

Fulton lifted his eyes to hers and it was as if "I _love_ you" flashed
from each to the other in that crumb of time. His face reddened a
little, and hers became more rosy. They weren't a bit ashamed of being
obviously in love with each other. I think they rather prided
themselves on it.

"Why _Hurry_?" I asked. "Is it a real name? Of course I remember
Hurry Harry in Cooper----"

"Her real name is Lucy," said Fulton, "same as her Mumsey, but they
look so ridiculously alike that I was afraid I'd get 'em mixed up. And
so we call her Hurry, because she always hurries; she hurries like mad.
Same as her Mumsey."

"Do you," I asked, "hurry like mad?"

She gave a comical hurried nod that made me laugh right out, and Fulton
said:

"She has smashed the more haste the less speed fallacy all to pieces."
You could see that the man was glowing with pride. And he began to
boast about her, and though she tried to stop him, she couldn't help
looking perfectly delighted with herself, like some radiant child in
the new dress for the party.

When Fulton had finished his eulogy, a long one, filled with humor,
character drawing, and tenderness--something in his voice rather than
his words, perhaps, always gave people the feeling that he had a
wonderfully light touch, and a point of view at once sentimental and
humorous--I reproached him, in turn, for praising a child to her face.

"In India," I said, "it's considered beastly unlucky."

Mrs. Fulton sprang to his defense. "I'm not a child," she defied me,
"I'm a married woman."

They took me to the front door themselves, and watched me as far as the
gate. I know this, because although I did not look back, it was when I
reached the gate that I heard the door close, and I thought: "Now if I
looked back, and the door was transparent, I'd see a pretty picture.
It's a thousand to one shot that he's caught her in his arms and is
kissing her and that she's perfectly delighted."

III

It is not easy for me to keep away from Lucy Fulton either on paper or
in real life. The latter I have to do, for I think that I am able to
keep a promise, and I ought to do the former