Here was a poor half-naked creature, with a straw crown on his head, and a wooden sceptre in his hand, seated on the ground with all the dignity of a monarch on his throne. She meditated profoundly through several enormous cold hours on all that had happened and all that she had done since the swirl of the suffrage movement had submerged her personal affairs. “That was a moment of madness,” she said. Lucy could see the resemblance of Martin to both of his parents as plain as day. It was in this state that Mark McCloskey caught her. I think that I will tell you. Well, it's scarcely credible. The joy of being loved thrilled her as nothing before had ever done, a curious abstract joy which had nothing in it at that moment of regret or even pity.
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