“Miss Bartlett.”
“Oh, good gracious me!” said Lucy, suddenly collapsing and again seeing the whole of life in a new perspective. “Where? Where?”
“In the nave.”
“I see. Those gossiping little Miss Alans must have—” She checked herself.
“Poor girl!” exploded Mr. Emerson. “Poor girl!”
She could not let this pass, for it was just what she was feeling herself.
“Poor girl? I fail to understand the point of that remark. I think myself a very fortunate girl, I assure you. I’m thoroughly happy, and having a splendid time. Pray don’t waste time mourning over me . There’s enough sorrow in the world, isn’t there, without trying to invent it. Goodbye. Thank you both so much for all your kindness. Ah, yes! there does come my cousin. A delightful morning! Santa Croce is a wonderful church.”
She joined her cousin.