The following afternoon, Abigail sat in the parlor reading a botany book, Solomon beside her poring through a philosophical dissertation. After she scanned the pages, studying some illustrations, she set it down and opened a book on ancient civilizations.
“I don’t understand why you can’t read one book at a time,” Solomon said, gazing at her through his spectacles.
“I like to go back and forth. Read one for a while, and then switch to a second.”
“It makes no sense at all,” he mumbled, turning the page. “I find it annoying.”
She looked at him curiously. “Why should you even care? I’m the one reading them.”
They were interrupted by a knock on the front door. Anna Knight, an attractive widow in her late thirties who served as housekeeper, cooking and cleaning for the minister and his wif
