The teacher turned towards the blackboard to inscribe the names of Capulet and Montague. It has been a big night. He worried me to marry him. Gerald’s task was to stop him from doing so. But in its stead—toward morning—there appeared another idea which appealed to him as sublime, appealed to the primitive conscience, to his artistic sense of the drama, to the poet and the novelist in him. And she did not merely affect to be driven—she felt driven. The wheel and the navigating instruments were sternward, under a spread of heavy canvas, a protection against rain and sun. The infant was rescued from a watery-grave by an honest mechanic, who has since brought him up as his own son. She saw Lucy darkening her doorstep and stood from the recliner. "And now," she added, with somewhat more composure, "leave me, dear friends, I entreat, for a few minutes to collect my scattered thoughts—to prepare myself for what I have to go through—to pray for my son.
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