Perhaps she did love research for its own sake, she was certainly gifted enough. He removed his cocked hat and came towards her. “I’m going for a long tramp, auntie,” she said. Lucy snatched it up and put it in her pack. Most of the vessels lying in the river were driven from their moorings, dashed tumultuously against each other, or blown ashore. But at least it gave her more time. Be a good wife to him. She found herself mildly entertained by staring at the houses through the rain as she walked home, all cast in a gray blurry film noir gauze of rain. It seems to me just talk; it seems to me like the fancy of a dream.
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