For some time he could not stir, but felt sick and exhausted. Lucy thought of a song that she had not been able to get out of her head since the Fifties. A smile flickered upon her lips as she glanced towards Brendon, who was very serious indeed. His last actions were futile. Wood turned over to obtain a more comfortable position. "Aw, piffle!" he said, half aloud and rather disgustedly, as he stepped out into the sunshine. He would never be able to compose upon it, but it would serve to produce the finished work. She stared at him and thought the words, “My husband, my husband.
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