I wanted the magic of love. Lucy was filled with happiness, it was her third Christmas at the Becks. She had only to get through this, to solace Manning as much as she could, to put such clumsy plasterings on his wounds as were possible, and then, anyhow, she would be free—free to put her fate to the test. He was in trouble and she could not help him; that was the ache in her heart. But this accusation, for want of sufficient evidence, met with the same fate as the first, and Jonathan came off victorious. ‘You cannot read my mind at all, monsieur.
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