The other was helping Trodger with his operation upstairs. Red velvet curtains rustled under dim lights as the door shut with a heavy snap. He made some obvious comments on the wide view warming toward its autumnal blaze that spread itself in hill and valley, wood and village, below. After all, what can it matter? It was just to make sure. Pausing with the intention of turning back, he glanced in the direction of the village church, the tower of which could just be seen through the trees. “Why won’t you sleep in my bed tonight, Lucia, where 80 it’s warm?” He asked her one night, teasing but mournful, as she stood in her bedroom doorway in a long white gown. I felt as though I had bandaged eyes. " "Who cares if we do?" retorted Sheppard, with a look of defiance.
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