"Are you going to stay here?"
"For a month or two, I think."
"You will not be quite so lonely then in future—at least if I may come to see you."
"May come? That is a new idea. But are you going to stay in Paris, too?"
"I must stay for a few weeks. And I expect my cousin Lady Dighton over soon, and she wants to know you."
"To know us? Oh, Maurice! you forget what a little country girl I am, and mamma, poor mamma is not well enough to go out at all, scarcely."
"Is she such an invalid, really? Have you had advice for her?"
"It is disease of the heart," Lucia said in a very low sorrowful tone, all her gaiety disappearing before the terrible idea—"the only thing that is good for her is to be quiet and happy—and the last few months have been so dreadful, she has suffered so."
"And you? But I have heard all. Lucia, I would have given all I am worth in the world to have been able to help you."
"I often wished for you, especially when I used to fear that our old friends would desert us. I never thought you would."