73 < 10 > AT HOME, 1982 Lucy woke up the next morning with Shari’s slow sonorous breathing only a few feet away. The fire still burned brightly. But it was almost choked up with fallen stacks of chimneys, broken beams of timber, and shattered tiles. It was in no sense confessional; it was a state of mind in the patient the doctor had already anticipated. Nothing like the direct approach, she thought. What was yet more worthy of note was, that the widow's countenance had an air of refinement about it, of which it was utterly destitute before, and which seemed to intimate that her true position in society was far above that wherein accident had placed her. Come and have lunch with me. The Palazzo was unlike anything she had ever known. All houses of means had not only a maid but usually a whole staff of servants.
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