"He may be killed!"
"Typical behaviour," said the chaplain, as he quitted the
carriage. "In the presence of reality that kind of person
invariably breaks down."
"What does he know?" whispered Lucy as soon as they were alone.
"Charlotte, how much does Mr. Eager know?"
"Nothing, dearest; he knows nothing. But--" she pointed at the
driver-"HE knows everything. Dearest, had we better? Shall I?"
She took out her purse. "It is dreadful to be entangled with
low-class people. He saw it all." Tapping Phaethon's back with her
guide-book, she said, "Silenzio!" and offered him a franc.
"Va bene," he replied, and accepted it. As well this ending to
his day as any. But Lucy, a mortal maid, was disappointed in him.
There was an explosion up the road. The storm had struck the
overhead wire of the tramline, and one of the great supports had
fallen. If they had not stopped perhaps they might have been
hurt. They chose to regard it as a miraculous preservation, and
the floods of love and sincerity, which fructify every hour of
life, burst forth in tumult.
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