‘Because I’m a female,’ declared Lucilla unanswerably. The lunches were individual affairs: sandwiches, bottled olives and jam commandeered from the Victoria. She could not move. “A very clear statement, madam,” he said. He loved to sneak up and stand ten feet or so behind you and just. Her head dangled unnaturally for an instant, unleashed from its moorings, then sank to join her husband’s on the floor. The immense disillusionment that awaited him! The devastating disillusionment! She had a vague desire to run after him, to state her case to him, to wring some understanding from him of what life was to her. Her heels made contact with Rhea’s knees and hobbled her with a crack. Be honest, and you will be happy.
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