18/55 And now, Alice,--I should see her ghost at every corner!' Lucy watched him with fascination. Every note of the singular voice, every movement of the picturesque ungainly form, already spoke to her, poor child, with a significance that bit these passing moments into memory, as an etcher's acid bites upon his plate. No, Miss Foster, there is nothing to call me home,--except politics. I may set up a lodging in London, of course. But as for playing the country squire--' He laughed, and shrugged his shoulders. |