” Lucy looked at Michelle sympathetically. Sampans with fish and fruit and vegetables swarmed about, while overhead gulls wheeled and swooped and circled. “Lucy, that is so sad. At the corner of Liquorpond Street stood the old Hampstead coach-office; and, on the night in question, a knot of hostlers, waggoners, drivers, and stable-boys was collected in the yard. He stared at her stupidly, forgetting to guard against the tactics he had come to expect from her. “May I ask whether you are staying with friends in town?” he inquired deferentially. She taught him all the lore she had; about bird-life and tree-life and the changing mysteries of the sea. And, anyhow, it doesn’t matter to us.
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