Her sadness was manageable only because she was so familiar with its phases, because she could observe its moods remotely, like an astronomer studying the moon. Here was one that subtly mocked her. Loneliness. Lucy had caught it when it was a millimeter away from hitting her teeth. Lucy’s solos were exquisite in their precision and expression. I am not sure, but I believe that he has just thought of something. She chastised herself for thinking of her husband and lord as being weak. She often found herself absorbed by watching the tall grass undulate from the cave’s central doorway as solitary hunters prowled for buffalo and stag on the plain.
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