She and John were able to see each other many times and spent long romantic winter afternoons together. Dim souls flitted about her, not only speaking but it would seem even thinking in undertones. ” “John, do you remember me at all?” “Lucy?!” He cried in disbelief. She became aware of the modelling of his ear, of the muscles of his neck and the textures of the hair that came off his brow, the soft minute curve of eyelid that she could just see beyond his brow; she perceived all these familiar objects as though they were acutely beautiful things. ‘You are jealous!’ ‘Yes,’ he agreed simply. Passing at a glance over the whole of the intervening period; leaving in the words of the poet, —The growth untried Of that wide gap— we shall resume our narrative at the beginning of June, 1715.
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