believed that stones, a Loggia, a fountain, a palace tower,
would have such significance. For a moment she understood the
nature of ghosts.

The exact site of the murder was occupied, not by a ghost, but by
Miss Lavish, who had the morning newspaper in her hand. She
hailed them briskly. The dreadful catastrophe of the previous day
had given her an idea which she thought would work up into a
book.

"Oh, let me congratulate you!" said Miss Bartlett. "After your
despair of yesterday! What a fortunate thing!"

"Aha! Miss Honeychurch, come you here I am in luck. Now, you are
to tell me absolutely everything that you saw from the
beginning." Lucy poked at the ground with her parasol.

"But perhaps you would rather not?"

"I'm sorry--if you could manage without it, I think I would
rather not."

The elder ladies exchanged glances, not of disapproval; it is
suitable that a girl should feel deeply.

"It is I who am sorry," said Miss Lavish. "literary hacks are
shameless creatures. I believe there's no secret of the human
heart into which we wouldn't pry."

She marched cheerfully to the fountain and back, and did a few