That did not sound like the name the young man had offered in the tower of the water-clock. Lucy was sent reeling into a stone wall, which she hit with a great thud. Flowers, theatre boxes, carriages, the “open sesame” to the whole world of pleasure. Where was this kindly world she had drawn so rosily in fancy? Disillusion everywhere. \"Good morning, Lucy\". From first to last, on this occasion, her aunt expostulated for about two hours. She returned home to the Beck house soaked and soggy. He did not like it, he said, with a significant look, to be reminded of either his books or his dinners after he had done with them. "There!" she cried, laughing, "that'll teach you to lay hands upon me again.
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