“Why won’t you sleep in my bed tonight, Lucia, where 80 it’s warm?” He asked her one night, teasing but mournful, as she stood in her bedroom doorway in a long white gown. Doctors constantly admonished and offered weak consolation that most would have been hurt much worse from the type of fall he took. She could tell that he was furious in that instant. “He means nothing!” She whispered loudly. “I have made no arrangements as yet— none at all. He took up his hat and went. Nature is a mother; her sympathies have always been feminist, and she has tempered the man to the shorn woman.
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