“Do you think you’ll ever get married, Lucy?” Lucy shifted uncomfortably as she pulled her makeshift nightgown—an old T-shirt—over her head. You may have something to conceal, you may not. She arrived about nine o’clock the next evening in a state of tremulous enthusiasm. There's an animal! He thrives in all zones, upon all manner of food. Fritz sang for her sometimes, for Fritz could sing even before he was able to form words. "He's dead," exclaimed Austin. She held it down with the poker, looking nervously over her shoulder. She would often steal away to tryst with him in the orchard, even now she felt her loins grow warm with the memory of his ardor. My mind is full of ideas and images that I have been cherishing and accumulating—dreams of travelling side by side, of lunching quietly together in some jolly restaurant, of moonlight and music and all that side of life, of seeing you dressed like a queen and shining in some brilliant throng—mine; of your looking at flowers in some old-world garden, our garden—there are splendid places to be got down in Surrey, and a little runabout motor is quite within my means.
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