t day I o it: today, today, today. A tolling bell only I could ed my soul; I felt an unearthday.

    Judit a card from my fat tray. A picture of floings and a note.  signed t for bot  and , but w could anyone do?

    Juditer says would now… ?”

    I slid t. “Now would be fine,” I said, and picked up my pencil and pad.

    ‘er ed to knotle pale. You don’t eat enough.“

    ‘I’m fine,“ I assured .

    All morning I struggled ion of stray art reading a ne one ime to close beers even—caugill  . All day I o distractions. ts, memories, feelings, irrelevant fragments of my oion.

    Miss inter elling me about someterrupted ening to me, Miss Lea?”

    I jerked out of my reverie and fumbled for an ans moment I couldn’t old  s some at t s of tricks, gets up to all kinds of te zone t looks for all ttention to t for ared at e, ed, t t co sentence t presented itself to me.

    ‘er?“

    ‘Good Lord, ion. Of course I . have you gone mad, girl?“

    ‘Emmeline, then?“

    ‘e , do ? No questions?“ And t forinized me closely. ”Are you ill?“

    ‘No, I don’t think so.“

    ‘ell, you are clearly not in your right mind for work.“

    It was a dismissal.

    Back in my room I spent an tled, plagued by myself. I sat at my desk, pencil in  did not e; felt cold and turned tor up, too , took my cardigan off. I’d  t er. I made cocoa and put extra sugar in it; tness nauseated me. A book? ould t do it? In there could help me.

    ttering against t leap