But she wished she could put the thing she had done in some way to them so that it would not hurt them so much as the truth would certainly do. I wish”— she found she had embarked on a bad sentence—“I wish we needn’t have quarrelled. \" Lucy lied. ‘Who is to be angry with you now?’ ‘Miss Prudence, that’s who,’ stated Joan bluntly. “It’s like Troy!” said a voice of rapture. Melusine jumped up, turning swiftly. The one profession, the one decent profession, I mean, for a woman—except the stage— is teaching, and there we trample on one another. I should as soon think of trusting a woman.
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