"Take my arm," said Stephen, entreatingly; and she took it, feeling all the while as if she were sliding downward in a nightmare.
"There is no end to this misery," she began, struggling to repel the influence by speech. "It is wicked–base ever allowing a word or look that Lucy–that others might not have seen. Think of Lucy."
"I do think of her–bless her. If I didn't—" Stephen had laid his hand on Maggie's that rested on his arm,and they both felt it difficult to speak .