“There’s another instinct, too,” he went on, “in a state of suppression, unless I’m very much mistaken; a child-expelling instinct. To disillusion her, forthwith. ” Lucy instructed. She hissed in a breath and his eyes met hers. Something in his smile, in the cynical suggestiveness of his deferential tone, maddened her. It had ceased raining, but the atmosphere was moist and chill, and the ground deluged by the recent showers. Larry kept digging heartily into his spaghetti, not intrigued in the slightest. That ring manifestly occupied her thoughts a great deal.
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