“What happened to your parents, Lucy? Is it all right if I ask?” Lucy looked at her with a soft gaze. Winifred Wood was now in her twentieth year. Not conceiving that his sister—feeble as she was, and yielding as she had ever shown herself to his wishes, whether expressed or implied—would depart without consulting him, he was equally surprised and enraged to hear the servants busied in transporting her to the carriage. ’ Gerald opened his eyes at her. They were sure to catch up with her. Every time he left a room, she chastised herself bitterly for her own profound weakness.
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