A sound sleeper, she was not roused by the creaky openings and closings of drawers as Lucy packed a single duffle bag with underwear and soap that was pilfered from a multipack of Zest in the Beck’s downstairs bathroom. “Do you think you’ll ever get married, Lucy?” Lucy shifted uncomfortably as she pulled her makeshift nightgown—an old T-shirt—over her head. He hadn't followed this angle of thought in ten years: what he might have been, with a little shrewd selfishness. Remember that he’s not at all a bad sort, and to speak frankly, he’s your salvation. And yet he knew clearly and definitely what he purposed to do, what the future would be. “Please hurry.
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