His was the Latin turn of thinking; he had fallen in love at thirteen, and he was still capable—he prided himself—of falling in love. “She has been to my flat before. ’ ‘Not, I trust, Nicholas Charvill?’ ‘Hardly. But a middle-aged man like Ramage ought to know better than to draw out a girl, the daughter of a friend and neighbor. “So it seems that I was wrong. Lucy had caught it when it was a millimeter away from hitting her teeth. There's a hundred pounds too much. Things hung for a moment in an awkward silence. At the threshold of the study he bade her good-night; but he did not touch her forehead with his lips.
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