She found herself mildly entertained by staring at the houses through the rain as she walked home, all cast in a gray blurry film noir gauze of rain. Gerald raised a questioning eyebrow. The note-passer lagged behind with her. “Who the hell are you, Lucy?” “Promise me you will never tell anyone. . ” She gestured to an abandoned farmhouse down a long stretch of icy dirt road. “Don’t you get it, Lucy? I’ve always thought he was an idiot. He had brought the shrubs down from Syria, and, strangely enough, they had prospered. ” Lucy wanted badly to believe her. "What's the matter, father!" continued the new-comer, addressing Wood. He reeled, and crashed to the floor.
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