Lucy went downstairs to prepare the hot cocoa that would be the last hot drink of the season, ruefully spiking the liquid with Nytol, just one tablet dissolved in a little warm water. I was grateful. If, when he returned, he blew out the light, she would go to bed; but if the light burned on for any length of time, she would go silently to the study curtain to learn if his agony was still upon him. She felt her forehead repeatedly break out in a light sweat. “Called myself Anna,” the girl repeated coolly. Probably his first serious bout with John Barleycorn.
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