I demand it as a right. ‘Martha was my wet-nurse? But she is unmarried. Lucy collapsed to the floor in a sob. You never can go back. She ought to have been disposed to faint and scream at all these happenings; she ought to have maintained a front of outraged dignity to veil the sinking of her heart. Why? Love was a word of God's, and yet her father had denied it—denied it to the Book, denied it to his own flesh and blood. All the king's horses and all the king's men could not undo what was done; nor kill the strange exquisite flower that had grown up in his own lonely heart.
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