“Lucy, do you forgive me?” She looked at him in earnest. I want my freedom. Think better of it. ’ ‘Oh,’ Gerald uttered, disappointed. She formed a wild resolution, and, lest she should waver from it, she set about at once to realize it. “Who tied this scarf here?” he asked, looking up. She had a feeling as though something had dropped from her eyes, as though she had just discovered herself for the first time—discovered herself as a sleepwalker might do, abruptly among dangers, hindrances, and perplexities, on the verge of a cardinal crisis.
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