‘But what way, Emile?’ ‘Your family, mademoiselle, the family of your father. She felt herself getting into a corner. ‘I’ll play you at your own game,’ he growled, holding the foreshortened foil in place with rigid control. Lucy looked about confusedly. What a pity! For all her ignorance of material things—the human inventions which served the physical comforts of man—how much she knew about man himself! She had seen him bereft of all those spiritual props which permit man to walk on two feet instead of four—broken, without resilience. He raised her to a sitting position.
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