Of course, it was most
unpleasant; she had seen his black head in the bushes; he might
make a tavern story out of it. But after all, what have we to do
with taverns? Real menace belongs to the drawing-room. It was of
drawing-room people that Miss Bartlett thought as she journeyed
downwards towards the fading sun. Lucy sat beside her; Mr. Eager
sat opposite, trying to catch her eye; he was vaguely suspicious.
They spoke of Alessio Baldovinetti.
Rain and darkness came on together. The two ladies huddled
together under an inadequate parasol. There was a lightning
flash, and Miss Lavish who was nervous, screamed from the
carriage in front. At the next flash, Lucy screamed also. Mr.
Eager addressed her professionally:
"Courage, Miss Honeychurch, courage and faith. If I might say so,
there is something almost blasphemous in this horror of the
elements. Are we seriously to suppose that all these clouds, all
this immense electrical display, is simply called into existence
to extinguish you or me?"
"No--of course--"
"Even from the scientific standpoint the chances against our
being struck are enormous.
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