“Michelle, it’s me, Lucy. "Well—well," grumbled Jonathan, "I suppose I must be content. She even thought that perhaps she might come to love him, in spite of that faint indefinable flavor of absurdity that pervaded his courtly bearing. “I cannot but conclude,” he said, “that your errand involved the recital to my wife of some trouble in which you find yourself. There’s no family uniting instinct, anyhow; it’s habit and sentiment and material convenience hold families together after adolescence. The eggs were all right, but nobody in this part of the world had the least conception of what the coffee bean was for. I must know what new thing has come between us that she should treat me as a lover one day and a monster the next. "Whose child can this be?" "How the devil should I know!" replied Jonathan gruffly.
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