. Chapter XXI HER SISTER’S SECRET “I think,” Lady Ferringhall said, “that you are talking very foolishly. The life of a girl presented itself to her as something happy and heedless and unthinking, yet really guided and controlled by others, and going on amidst unsuspected screens and concealments. . . It had been discussed in silence. She fought him at first, screaming at him, but he did not relent. “Lucy Albert. She produced a handkerchief, and with one sweep of this and a simultaneous gulp had abolished her fit of weeping. “Hey you,” he said affectionately. But the besetting evil of the place, and that which drew down the severest censures of the writers above-mentioned, was that this spot,—which of all others should have been most free from such intrusion—was made a public exhibition.
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