He was unable to possess Lucy's hand as he had in the cinema, separated by the annoying chasm between the van's plush seats. A crumpled-up newspaper thrown from the gallery hit her upon the cheek. She turned off the light and approached the window. Standing before a mirror set on a dresser between the windows, two hands frozen in the act of adjusting a wide-brimmed hat on her head, stood a lady in a dark riding habit, her startled features turned towards the door. With the extra seventy-five pounds she had put after birthing her final son, Steven, her knees weren’t in good shape to be running up and down stairs all day. Can't I make you see?" "But I'm telling you Ruth loves you.
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