’ ‘Get on, Hilary, do,’ begged Lucilla. Somewhere in the world would be his people, perhaps his mother; and it might soften the bitterness, of the return to consciousness if he found a woman at his bedside. Part of her even believed that her mother would have wanted her to stop feeling guilty and to be happy. She lunched at a creamery in Great Portland Street, and as the day was full of wintry sunshine, spent the rest of the lunch-hour in a drowsy gloom, which she imagined to be thought upon the problems of her position, on a seat in Regent’s Park. Come close to me, and let me hold your hand, dear. She loved to be there, taking part in it all, breathing it, being it.
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