But that other world, in spite of her resolute exclusion of it, was always looking round corners and peeping through chinks and crannies, and rustling and raiding into the order in which she chose to live, shining out of pictures at her, echoing in lyrics and music; it invaded her dreams, it wrote up broken and enigmatical sentences upon the passage walls of her mind. “But why now? Don’t boys know that I am involved with John right now?” “That’s not the way it works, Lucy. "Give me your hand, Poll, to help me through," cried Jack, as he accomplished the operation.
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