"At least to start with. Maybe I'm wrong—I mean, I think we're all out of our depths here—but it's like that thing about flies and honey, right?"
It should feel like a less dangerous suggestion than it does. But everything unsettles here, so maybe she can just ignore that feeling. There's no gathering the coat closer about her either to offset it, or the bite of the winter night air. Even inside her pockets, her hands are cold. The tips of her ears are starting to hurt.
They should probably go back inside. Instead—
"My husband was in the service. —Not here. I mean my actual husband. The Marines. I think he liked the structure of it too." She gives Margaret a brief smile, a flicker of sympathy there for the tension in her. "This place would drive him crazy."
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It should feel like a less dangerous suggestion than it does. But everything unsettles here, so maybe she can just ignore that feeling. There's no gathering the coat closer about her either to offset it, or the bite of the winter night air. Even inside her pockets, her hands are cold. The tips of her ears are starting to hurt.
They should probably go back inside. Instead—
"My husband was in the service. —Not here. I mean my actual husband. The Marines. I think he liked the structure of it too." She gives Margaret a brief smile, a flicker of sympathy there for the tension in her. "This place would drive him crazy."