in great draughts of their perfume, caressing
them with her cheeks, drinking in the honey of their
petals.

This was also true of her voice--a rich, full,
vibrating voice, that dominated the room and thrilled
the hearts of all who heard her. When she sang she
sang as a bird sings, as much to relieve its own overcharged
little body, full to bursting with the music
in its soul, as to gladden the surrounding woods with
its melody--because, too, she could not help it and
because the notes lay nearest her bubbling heart and
could find their only outlet through the lips.

Bart was her constant companion. Under his instructions
she had learned to hold the tiller in sailing
in and out of the inlet; to swim over hand; to
dive from a plank, no matter how high the jump; and
to join in all his outdoor sports. Lucy had been his
constant inspiration in all of this. She had surveyed
the field that first night of their meeting and
had discovered that the young man's personality
offered the only material in Warehold available for
her purpose. With him, or someone like him--one
who had leisure and freedom, one who was quick
and strong and skilful (and Bart was all of these)--
the success of her summer would be assured. Without
him many of her plans could not be carried
out.