The ConsolationThe next day after luncheon, I visited a woman who’d fallen ill to cancer, a terrible painful ailment with no cure. When she heard of my melancholy after the zeppelin explosion, she’d traveled hours to the Country House to console me, only to be told I was not “at home.”
Her husband had been outraged that I’d not traveled the mile to see her in the years since then, and he glowered at me the entire time.
I don’t know if I was able to draw out his anger, but his wife seemed grateful that I’d come to visit. “The doctors tell me I don’t have long, but I hope I’m able to finish this.” She pulled out a mass of white yarn. “I’m making a blanket for your little one’s bed.”
That touched me so deeply I began to cry, right in front of her. “Thank you so much.” I didn’t feel at all
