Lucy slept in the same room as Shari, only ten feet away. An ancient smile lay on his lips. Alarmed by these prognostications of a storm, and feeling too much exhausted from his late severe treatment to proceed further on foot, Wood endeavoured to find a tavern where he might warm and otherwise refresh himself. He was not a sailor. She confronted him with his own double-standard. He confided to me that he felt trapped in his marriage, that he was being ruined by fate. He laughed lightly. We shall both, I hope, live to enjoy our shares—long after Thames Darrell is forgotten—ha! ha! A third of your estate I accept.
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