The fragrance of dryer sheets lay upon her like the snow that now drifted peacefully outside. I don’t care what divides us. ” Lucy would always press her face into her mother’s skirts when she heard the ending, no matter how many times she heard it. She was with these movements—akin to them, she felt it at times intensely—and yet something eluded her. Parbleu, but must she do this all through the house? Evidently she must, for not only could she not properly see the paintings and portraits that hung on the walls, but she was in imminent danger of bumping into the sheet-shrouded furniture. She was on the rim of civilization, entering, as Spurlock was on the rim, preparing to make his exit.
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