Let us proceed with our tale. The hansom sped through the crowded streets. He was as hard as a rock. He was normal now, and the coat was only a coat. Lucy? Come 177 on out. You love money. The thought of their faces, and particularly of her aunt’s, as it would meet the fact— disconcerted, unfriendly, condemning, pained—occurred to her again and again. There was a Greyhound bus that she was overdue to ride. I can’t even make myself care. The cultivated indifference, which was part of the armour of his little world fell away from him.
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