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Wood was dressed with more than ordinary care, and in more than ordinary finery. She could feel his eyes surreptiously scanning her backside. This was David Courtlaw, whose ways, too, had never been very different from the ways of other men as regards her sex. And if she was ever found living in the area like that, homeless, John could somehow find out. She had a feeling at his departure as of an immense cavity, of something enormously gone; she could not tell whether it was infinite regret or infinite relief. Sheila’s boys hadn’t been much help when they were around the house, anyway, they were more partial to lolling around on couches and running around with their girls. Breakfast, too, was an impossible occasion.
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