He wore a threecornered hat, a sandy-coloured scratch wig, and had a thick woollen wrapper folded round his throat. I could not have spoken to her. . You were afraid of me, afraid that I should have been shocked, afraid of the scandal. A middle-aged countrywoman, plump of cheek, and a little shy. A sound sleeper, she was not roused by the creaky openings and closings of drawers as Lucy packed a single duffle bag with underwear and soap that was pilfered from a multipack of Zest in the Beck’s downstairs bathroom. After all, why need one look down. ” She went as far as her door, then turned to the window.
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