“’We are going to be married to-morrow, and next week we sail for the States. I live, sir, in Chicago City, and if you are ever in America Lucy and myself will esteem it an honour if you will come to see us.
“’Lucy would write to you herself if she were not tired, having had to look after many things.
“’I am, dear sir,
“’Very sincerely yours,
“’JAMES WAINSCOTT.’”
“Lucy wanted life,” said Rodney, “and she will find her adventure sooner or later. Poor Lucy!”
“Lucy is the stuff the great women are made of and will make a noise in the world yet.”
“It is well she has gone; for it is many years since there was honour in Ireland for a Grania.”
“Maybe you’ll meet her in Paris and will do another statue from her.”
“It wouldn’t be the same thing. Ah! my statue, my poor statue. Nothing but a
