God, Lucy, what’s it been, how many years?” “I’m so sorry, John. She throws a sort of spell over us all. ” Capes looked at his wife’s unsmiling face. Shari’s head poked out of the bathroom where she had been preoccupied with preparations for her morning shower. "Mother!" she echoed,—"mother! why do you call me by that name?" "Because you are my mother. There followed a silence which endured several minutes; or, rather a tableau. ‘What do you say of these troops?’ ‘You see, we’re militia. ” Lucy blinked from the winter sunlight and reached behind herself to yank at her hood. Guiltily, she felt very little for him, and yet she wondered what he would be like. Her aunt, a faded, anæmic-looking lady of somewhat too obtrusive gentility, was still sitting with her hand pressed to her heart.
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