Michelle was sounding alarm bells everywhere in Lucy’s brain, but Lucy felt the pull of a 188 greater inertia, the urge to stay put so strong that to deny it was to deny the existence of gravity. The man who staggers, whose face is flushed, whose attitude is either noisily friendly or truculent, has some chance; liquor bends him eventually. Something about the girl had suggested an idea. And this great mellow place, this London, now was hers, to struggle with, to go where she pleased in, to overcome and live in. He had not taken many steps when he perceived Quilt Arnold in the upper gallery, with a lamp in his hand. You understand what I mean. Finally she fell into reflection.
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