Seventeen hours, sixteen hours. I could never have talked to you like this, forgetting everything that parts us, forgetting even your age, if I did not love you utterly. “I did everything I could to save your baby, Lucia, I have the medical knowledge to cure almost anything, but the Pestilence struck you too fast. Each manuscript was like the other: the same lovely treatment of an unlovely subject. “Why won’t you sleep in my bed tonight, Lucia, where 80 it’s warm?” He asked her one night, teasing but mournful, as she stood in her bedroom doorway in a long white gown. ‘I allow anyone in.
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