Her aunt went out of the room with dignity and a rustle, and up-stairs to the fastness of her own room. These sweeping dignities were not within the compass of her will; she remembered she liked Ramage, and owed things to him, and she was interested—she was profoundly interested. She had suddenly become as the jewels of the Madonna, as the idol's eye, infinitely beyond his reach, sacred. If only this man had been her father! The world would have meant nothing; the island would have been wide enough. ’ Lucilla burst into laughter and clapped her hands. It was as though he were personally aggrieved. Shari entered the room in a damp towel, fresh from the shower. After all, this could never be the black sheep.
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