“You come into these sordid surroundings—you mustn’t mind my calling them sordid—and it makes them seem as though they didn’t matter. But Jonathan, fixing a terrible look upon him, cried. Lucy found solace in the lack of sunshine, but the November cold was over the top, even for Illinois. She directed the orchestra to tune again. He was a civil servant of some standing, and after a previous conversation upon aesthetics of a sententious, nebulous, and sympathetic character, he had sent her a small volume, which he described as the fruits of his leisure and which was as a matter of fact rather carefully finished verse. David Courtlaw.
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