Then, the very day before we were to sail, I met Lucy face to face in the street; and began to tremble a little. She held out both hands; she was always so natural and frank.
"So you've done it!" she exclaimed; "I think she's sweet, and so good-looking."
Then the smile faded from her lips, and she made the praying eyes at me, and I knew that I had only to be with her a moment to love her.
"Of course," she said, "it's all right our meeting and speaking now."
"Of course," I said, and they sounded lame words, lamely spoken.
"Do you believe in post-mortems?" she asked.
"No," I said, "but I like them."
"We—Oh, it's lucky we had parents and guardians, isn't it? When did you come to the end of your rope?"
I could only shake my head.
"Was it when you—heard about me?"