She did not hear his approach, but continued her occupation without raising her head. I’m not to study, I’m not to grow. Tonight Lucy doled out outré physiological theories of boys and their overactive hormones. Now I am sorry to cross you in anything you have set your heart upon, but I regret to say—” “H’m,” he reflected, and crossed out the last four words. She jumped up at once, caught up a leather clutch containing notebooks, a fat textbook, and a chocolate-and-yellow-covered pamphlet, and leaped neatly from the carriage, only to discover that the train was slowing down and that she had to traverse the full length of the platform past it again as the result of her precipitation. ‘Soldier of fortune.
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