Chapter 50
Week 18, Instructor Calendar, June 1896
I ‘gin to be aweary of the sun,
And wish th’ estate o’ the world were now undone.
V.v
The blackness thinned. She heard voices, one raised sharply, others a murmur.
Where was she?
She felt a drowsy warmth, and would have drifted asleep if not for the uncomfortably hard plank she seemed to be lying upon. She turned and banged her head. It was a pew.
“Ow,” she muttered, sitting up and rubbing her forehead. An overcoat slid to the floor.
Everything looked blurry.
Oh. She groped for her spectacles, finally finding them tucked in her skirt pocket, and put them on. Much better.
The rain had cleared, and the weak light of early dawn was just starting to touch the windows. But what was she doing in the chapel?
Then it came back t
