I have a new cult to teach, a new enthusiasm. She was no longer there. Living’s just material. He saw now that it was merely a boy. “We are the music and you are the instrument,” she said; “we are verse and you are prose. ‘Something for you, Lucy?’ he asked, interrupting a heated argument that had obviously been in progress for some little time before their arrival. She began by being interested in his demonstrations and his biological theory, then she was attracted by his character, and then, in a manner, she fell in love with his mind. But probably not the truth. 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. He squatted and threw his arm around the backs of her knees. The doctor jumped to his feet. It was nearly one o’clock; but there were lights still in all her windows. .
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