\"Today's Friday, isn't it?\" Lucy remembered. Wood's reply, if he intended any, was cut short by a loud knocking at the door. She stood up and he sat down at the microscope, and for a time he was busy scrutinizing one section after another. Shari proceeded to paint, brush, dust, slather, and blot Lucy’s face with makeup. “A man who does not touch his wife, who ignores his wife, what kind of man is he? I am not sick any more. The image in the glass was not clear, for the light was not bright enough to see properly, but the shadows of her riding habit and the hat with its waving plumes framed a countenance that gazed serenely back at her out of long-lashed blue eyes. “Hold on, she’s right here.
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