From the first there had always been between her and her listeners that electrical sympathy which only a certain order of genius seems able to create. At least the sun would not be as bright, which was a welcome reprieve from the mercilessly bright early summer days which had invigorated every man, woman, and child in the suburbs but were wearing Lucy down into acute fatigue, along with her hunger. "Once for all, I shall go. You, for instance, you live, you are not afraid to live. Wood, who looks after her comforts, and visits her constantly. All the world about her seemed to be—how can one put it?—in wrappers, like a house when people leave it in the summer. I needed a man the worst kind of way—a man I could keep for at least six months. Don’t ask me how.
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