“That’s not a very good idea,” she replied, morosely. “Supposing I was to meet someone who knew me before I became... you know?”
“One can but hope they’d be a little less disgusted by the idea than you seem to be. I’m sorry, dear, but you do remind me of Robert. Doesn’t the world loathe us quite enough without us lending a helping hand? You didn’t even ask to be what you are, Lucy, so why be ashamed of it?”
“And Robert; didn’t he choose?” she asked, feeling certain that she had heard something very much along those lines.
“Well... in a manner of speaking. Perhaps we'll save that lovely story for later,” she added, with a faintly nervous glance up the street along which the battered escapee had fled. For the sake of time as much as compassion, she conceded that it was perhaps too soon to
