73 < 10 > AT HOME, 1982 Lucy woke up the next morning with Shari’s slow sonorous breathing only a few feet away. Ann Veronica had had some training at the Tredgold College in disentangling threads from confused statements, and she had a curious persuasion that in all this fluent muddle there was something—something real, something that signified. She stood there limply and did not act to resist him. How would it serve Nicholas to keep the truth from his daughter? A tiny thread of disquiet troubled him. Soon, they fattened up, their cheeks rosy and their hair shining. . Such names shone brightly in the darkness, with black spaces of unilluminated emptiness about them, as stars shine in the night; but now—now it was different; now it was dawn—the real dawn. She had dreaded the beginning of this hour. “You’ve got my view,” he said, after a pensive second.
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