Later, when they returned home, she would serve as the topic of many conversations. She lunched at a creamery in Great Portland Street, and as the day was full of wintry sunshine, spent the rest of the lunch-hour in a drowsy gloom, which she imagined to be thought upon the problems of her position, on a seat in Regent’s Park. Stanley pointed to the letter with a pipe he had drawn from his jacket pocket. “You did good!” She closed her eyes and rested in the moment, imagining a normal life where she would go to college, have babies with John, watch her children have children, live, and die as she had always wanted to. . . That’s how things are; that’s the order of the world.
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