Chapter Nineteen
If only he could sleep. Even with the door shut he could hear her sobs. He listened until it stopped. The sun rose and, with it, the doctor from a rumpled and restless bed. His bedroom window looked out into the same quiet garden Lucretia had seen. Apart from a solitary squirrel that hopped and dug at random, it was empty. Most of the flowers were gone and leaves lay in scattered wisps and piles. Many a summers day and night had been spent down there, whips and floggers had whizzed through the air. Paddles and hands had spanked bare, upturned bottoms. It had been a paradise. These were moments he recalled with fondness and yet he could not bring to mind a single day or night that meant more than any other.
It had gotten cold in the night. A heavy frost muted all the col
