Wood, however, was too much excited to attend to the caution. Lucy stepped inside. “No, the only person I told before tonight was my mother and father. “And as for praying for faith—this sort of monologue is about as near as any one of my sort ever gets to prayer. When I examined you for ‘ill humors’ I longed to run my hands over your entire body, to touch your face, to caress you in the places that would give you pleasure. It was not for a week or a month. She was greatly exercised by the problem of confiding in the Widgetts; they were dears, and she talked away two evenings with Constance without broaching the topic; she made some vague intimations in letters to Miss Miniver that Miss Miniver failed to mark.
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