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. Sailors would leave them at the trader's. I suppose because it IS the chief thing in life. Lucy gestured to Michelle to follow her downstairs. "The part was crooked," she explained. She entered the front hall, formerly magnificent, now faded and dusty, the old wood table waiting for guests who would never come. ‘Wait, Jacques! I will find the way to open this.
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