"Ah!" he exclaimed, "a letter, beginning 'dearest Aliva,'—that's your mother's name, Thames. 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. It did not cheer or fortify him with false courage and recklessness; it simply enveloped him in a mist of unreality. Lucy sighed. ‘I assure you it suits her as Mary would not.
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