She stole a few glances at John as she stood and played the pieces. The wound lay open for five seconds, and then closed neatly as if it had been stitched by invisible hands. The both of them puttering about the tidy two-story house, Lucy would serve them both steaming cups of tea in the front parlor. Her eyes filled as she thought of him, the image of his laughing countenance coming into her mind, to be swiftly followed by a vision of the blood running from his cut hand. Wood's boat bearing up towards him. The stench is everywhere. But she certainly remembered that when she was a little girl he sometimes wore tennis flannels, and also rode a bicycle very dexterously in through the gates to the front door. Our men had him fast, held down in a chair.
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