Turning off again on the left, down Seacoal Lane, they arrived at the mouth of a dark, narrow alley, into which they plunged; and, at the farther extremity found a small yard, overlooked by the blank walls of a large gloomy habitation. It was painted in the early seventeenth century by a minor artist named DuPre. The sound of their strident voices floated upwards, the high nasal note of the predominant Americans, the shrill laughter of girls quick to appreciate the wit of such of their male companions as thought it worth while to be amusing. I want you to be clear what you’re really and truly up to, anyhow. “What has he to do with it?” “He was your sister’s master—her friend. Lucia dismissed the rumors, as it was not likely an archbishop would renege on his duties to become her personal doctor. The thought of their faces, and particularly of her aunt’s, as it would meet the fact— disconcerted, unfriendly, condemning, pained—occurred to her again and again. “It’s bound to be all right,” she said. The servants had left the room. He took up his hat and went.
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