He knew that tragedy was as blind as justice, that it struck the child and the grown-up impartially. He was and always would be dramatizing his emotions; perpetually he would be confounding his actual with his imaginary self. He must win this man's confidence, even at the risk of being called mad. The flowers and turf, a wild strawberry, a rare butterfly, and suchlike little intimate things had become more interesting than mountains. He went over his interview with her again, their conversation at dinner-time. Lucy cried out, “There is a baby in the crypt! She has taken an infant!” Sebastian struck her across the jaw, sending her flying backwards.
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