What a pity! For all her ignorance of material things—the human inventions which served the physical comforts of man—how much she knew about man himself! She had seen him bereft of all those spiritual props which permit man to walk on two feet instead of four—broken, without resilience. She turned to Martha as the lad exited by the back door, but her nurse forestalled anything she might have said. McClintock stared into the bowl of his pipe and Spurlock into his coffee cup. “Do you think you’ll ever get married, Lucy?” Lucy shifted uncomfortably as she pulled her makeshift nightgown—an old T-shirt—over her head. Perhaps he truly meant it – perhaps there was a force within him that could withstand the hardships of existing past a mortal lifetime. She was perhaps as near tears as ever before in her life. ‘To read and write, of course, and to sew. Here your nephew will speedily be thrown.
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