t could anger do, or any other quick-springing
short-lived emotion? What did it matter even what Lucy felt, what any
one felt? It was far beyond that. Here was fact which no emotion could
undo. A wife and a child on either side, and what was to come of it; and
how could life go on with this to think of, never to be forgotten, not
to be put aside for a moment? It brought existence to a stand-still. She
did not know what was the next step she must take, or how she could go
back, or what she must say to the man who, perhaps, was not her husband,
or how she could continue under that roof, or arrange the commonest
details of life. There was but one thing clear before her, the business
which she was bent on hurrying to a conclusion now.

She found herself in the bustle of the streets that converge upon the
circus at the end of Piccadilly as she thus went on thinking, and there
Lucy looked about her in some dismay, finding that she had reached the
limit of the little world she knew. She was afraid of plunging alone
into those bustling ways, and almost afraid of the only other
alternative, which, however, she adopted, of calling a cab and giving
the driver the address of Mr. Chervil in the city. To do this, and to
mount into the uneasy jingling cab, gave her a little shock of the
unaccustomed, which was like a breach of morals to Lucy. It seemed,
though she had been independent enough in more important matters, the
most daring step she had ever taken on her own responsibility. But the
matter of the cab, and the aspect of this unknown world into which it
conveyed her, occupied her mind a little, and stopped the tumult of her
thoughts. She seemed scarcely to know what she had come about when she
found herself set down at the door of Mr. Chervil's office, and
ascending the grimy staircase, meeting people who stared at her, and
wondered what a lady could be doing there. Mr. Chervil himself was
scarcely less surprised. He said, "Lady Randolph!" with a cry of
astonishment when she was shown in. And she found some difficulty, which
she had not thought of, in explaining her business. He reminded her that
she had given him the same instructions yesterday when he had the honour
of waiting upon her in Park Lane. He was far more respectful to Lady
Randolph than he had been to Lucy Trevor in her first attempts to carry
out her father's will.

"I assure you," he said, "I have not neglected your wishes. I have
written to Rushton on the subje