Even in her hatred, she began to realize that Sebastian’s intelligence was much greater than Gianfrancesco’s. ’ ‘That’s fortunate,’ murmured Lucilla. “Why shouldn’t one face the facts of one’s self?” She stood up. . " The girl's blood ran warmly for a minute. ” She glared at Sebastian over the drawing table where she was sketching in chalk, then over at the fifteen year old boy who was asleep in a disheveled pile of rushes in the corner. Very slowly, very fearfully, she turned her head. And she defies me. My mind is full of ideas and images that I have been cherishing and accumulating—dreams of travelling side by side, of lunching quietly together in some jolly restaurant, of moonlight and music and all that side of life, of seeing you dressed like a queen and shining in some brilliant throng—mine; of your looking at flowers in some old-world garden, our garden—there are splendid places to be got down in Surrey, and a little runabout motor is quite within my means.
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