“Really, I do not know why I should have doubted it. In this cell was a huntsman, who had fractured his skull while hunting, and was perpetually hallooing after the hounds;—in that, the most melancholy of all, the grinning gibbering lunatic, the realization of "moody madness, laughing wild. Interrogation takes many forms, you know, Lucy. Where was this kindly world she had drawn so rosily in fancy? Disillusion everywhere. How perfectly charming. “I don’t know. The girl who had just left the room was as great a mystery to him now as on the afternoon when he had met her in Piccadilly and taken her to tea. ” “One has theories,” said Ann Veronica, radiantly. ‘I am saying so,’ protested Gerald mildly.
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