She lunged without warning again, and Gosse, just catching her blade on his own, was obliged to retreat backwards up the little stair. ‘Monsieur, my wife intended not to anger you,’ he said in a tone of apology. She looked at me as though I were some unclean thing, as though my soul were weighted with every sin in the calendar. “I’ve got nothing in the world to pack with except a toy size portmanteau. Some man! And to conclude it all was the figure of her father in the doorway, giving her a last chance, his hat in one hand, his umbrella in the other, shaken at her to emphasize his point. The day was unseasonably humid and dark, a thick fog having descended over manicured lawns. God, Lucy, that’s the stuff people wear to Phys. ToC Mrs.
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