She realized more and more the quality of the brink upon which she stood—the dreadful readiness with which in certain moods she might plunge, the unmitigated wrongness and recklessness of such a self-abandonment. Of course she had taken the boy as her lover, acting as his muse. Now, as she stared at the image of her own face, she recalled something Major Alderley had said. “Have you told anybody else?” Lucy asked. ‘Don’t look at me like that,’ Martha begged. ” “I don’t care how we meet,” she said. And in those days, too, he used to help her mother with her gardening, and hover about her while she stood on the ladder and hammered creepers to the scullery wall. ’ ‘What, for not wanting to marry you?’ ‘Imbecile.
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