George was instantly subjected to a shock of indefinable
nature, yet definitely a shock: he did not know what he felt--but he
knew that he felt. Heat surged over him: probably he would not have
come face to face with her if the restoration of all the ancient
Amberson magnificence could have been his reward. He went on slowly,
his knees shaky.
But he found Fanny not at home; she had been out all afternoon; and
there was no record of any caller--and he began to wonder, then to
doubt if the small lady he had seen in the distance was Lucy. It
might as well have been, he said to himself--since any one who looked
like her could give him "a jolt like that!"
Lucy had not left a card. She never left one when she called on
Fanny; though she did not give her reasons a quite definite form in
her own mind. She came seldom; this was but the third time that year,
and, when she did come, George was not mentioned either by her hostess
or by herself--an oddity contrived between the two ladies without
either of them realizing how odd it was.
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