Wood scarcely knew where he was. She forbade him to escape to his workshop in the basement during those times, denying him his one and only hobby. . ’ A little sigh escaped her. He relayed many details of the location and the beautiful rivers of her home, a subject she never tired of. ’ Leaning down, she raised the hem of the petticoat of her habit to reveal a neat little pair of boots on her feet. The well of tears in her eyes was dry. Love stories!… A sob rushed into her throat, and to smother it she buried her face in a pillow. That register would be easy to get at; comforting thought.
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