Why had she married him, off-hand, like that? She did not love him, or he knew nothing of love signs. He was a London man of business, spending a small legacy in Paris. Winds returned, the gardens withered, and roses would not bloom. I love you. " "Waste not another word with him, Thames," cried Jack. She sat on the edge of the bed overwhelmed, the roses cradled in her arms. At least the sun would not be as bright, which was a welcome reprieve from the mercilessly bright early summer days which had invigorated every man, woman, and child in the suburbs but were wearing Lucy down into acute fatigue, along with her hunger. She reeled in excitement, she unzipped his pants while kissing him, trying not to let herself stop touching him as she unclothed him. How could she tell him what indeed already began to puzzle herself, why she had borrowed that money at all? The plain fact was that she had grabbed a bait. .
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