277 “I was beginning to think that I would never see you again, Lucy. Wood, was much better furnished with eatables than might have been expected, and boasted a loaf, a knuckle of ham, a meat-pie, and a flask of wine. Stanley pronounced, and seemed to hesitate whether he had not gone too far. Indeed, it is rather a matter of whose death is close. Nature is a mother; her sympathies have always been feminist, and she has tempered the man to the shorn woman. To be jeune demoiselle, it is not always convenient. “You did good!” She closed her eyes and rested in the moment, imagining a normal life where she would go to college, have babies with John, watch her children have children, live, and die as she had always wanted to. “Too greasy for me.
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