e desperate situation, was staved off for another night.

Lucy woke next morning in a kind of desperation. No new event had
happened, but she could not rest. She felt that she must do something or
die, and what could she do? She spent the early morning in the nursery,
and then went out. This time she was reasonable, not like that former
time when she went out to the city. She knew very well now that nothing
was to be gained by walking or by jolting in a disagreeable cab. On the
former occasion that had been something of a relief to her; but not now.
It is scarcely so bad when some out-of-the-way proceeding like this,
some strange thing to be done, gives the hurt and wounded spirit a
little relief. She had come to the further stage now when she knew that
nothing of the sort could give any relief; nothing but mere dull
endurance, going on, and no more. She drove to Mr. Chervil's office
quietly, as she might have gone anywhere, and thus, though it seems
strange to say so, betrayed a deeper despair than before. She took with
her a list of names with sums written opposite. There was enough there
put down to make away with a large fortune. This one so much, that one
so much. This too was an impulse of the despair in her mind. She was
carrying out her father's will in a lump. It meant no exercise of
discrimination, no careful choice of persons to be benefited, such as he
had intended, but only a hurried rush at a duty which she had neglected,
a desire to be done with it. Lucy was on the eve, she felt, of some
great change in her life. She could not tell what she might be able to
do after; whether she should live through it or bring her mind and
memory unimpaired through it, or think any longer of anything that had
once been her duty. She would get it done while she could. She was very
sensible that the money she had given to Bice was not in accordance with
what her father would have wished: neither were these perhaps. She could
not tell, she did not care. At least it would be done with, and could
not be done over again.

"Lady Randolph," said Mr. Chervil, in dismay, "have you any idea of the
sum you are--throwing away?"

"I have no idea of any sum," said Lucy, gently, "except just the money I
spend, so much in my purse. But you have taught me how to calculate, and
that so much would--make people comfortable. Is not that what you said?
Well, if it was not you, it was--I do not remember. When I first got the
charge of this int