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“Why not?” Lady Lescelles answered. Would she ever find it? Sighing, she opened the door to the next room, and drew back the drapes. She felt much better. She succumbed to cancer of the breast at age forty-three, it was slow and wasting. What a pity! For all her ignorance of material things—the human inventions which served the physical comforts of man—how much she knew about man himself! She had seen him bereft of all those spiritual props which permit man to walk on two feet instead of four—broken, without resilience. "Jonathan has threatened to do her some mischief.
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