CHAPTER 11
Martha Aqua regarded her daughter’s earnest expression pensively. They were sitting in the dining room, having just finished breakfast. Light filtered in from the icy windows and cast shadows from the silver water jug and porcelain bowls, shading much of the newspaper Martha had been reading before Molly had spoken up. Her husband, Phillip, had been out all night on duty, and had rushed from the room after only a few bites to catch up on his sleep. Now the two of them were alone.
It was unusual for Molly to linger after she’d eaten; normally she chose to hide until her first tutor of the morning lost patience and went looking for her. And she had certainly never shown an interest in the workings of the hospital, or medicine, despite all their attempts to engage her. Yet now sh
