Ann Veronica forgot him as soon as she was through the gate, and her face resumed its expression of stern preoccupation. She had all the fascination of being absolutely perplexing in this respect. Had he had the child to think of, he might have recovered from his grief at Mary’s death. A sound sleeper, she was not roused by the creaky openings and closings of drawers as Lucy packed a single duffle bag with underwear and soap that was pilfered from a multipack of Zest in the Beck’s downstairs bathroom. She silently willed him to stop his pacing, to calm down.
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