” Mike said. "Unless you have eaten a Syrian orange," he was always saying, "you have only a rudimentary idea of what an orange is. Lucy had caught it when it was a millimeter away from hitting her teeth. There were dark rims under her eyes, soft now with unshed tears. “I was really interested in his stuff. Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved. We shall never have an heir, you and I! My family is crumbling; all of my brothers are dead.
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