She rehearsed the story of her forlorn long lost mother in her head, what she would say to the theorymongers. “Fuck you, Julian Rimbauer. She got up, put the neat cuffs she had made into her work-basket, and went to the bureau for the little cards in the morocco case. It was her foster brother Mike, on his way to the bathroom. His foot tapped impatiently, and he took up the papers. When she judged that she must be nearly back at the library, she began to feel somewhat dispirited. She wanted to take him in her arms and hush him, but she sat perfectly still. Clear water gave away to gray as she waded deeper, feeling her slippers on rock. Why don’t you just tell me what is going on with you! Why the police questioned you! Why they’re looking for your mother? I’ll understand! Just tell me and I swear to God Lucy I’ll understand. The old man was conducted to Jack's cell by the turnkey, who remained near him during their interview.
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