"Do the children write to you?"
Catherine reached into the pocket of her coat.
"I've been moving too fast the last few days to have letters. I expect a lot to-morrow in Ohio." She spread the sheet on the table. "Here's the latest. Letty made the crosses."
"Dere Mother I will be glad when you come home again because I do not like to sleep in Daddys and your room so well. Walter is coming to see me for a day and maybe I am going home with him we are being good I love You
From your loving Son Spencer Hammond Good-by."
"Nice kid." Bill looked up. "Let's see, he is just nine, isn't he?"
"Going on ten." Catherine refolded the letter. She loved the little smudge from an inky thumb in the margin.
"What shall we do now? You have several hours left." Bill set down his coffee cup. "Music? Theater? We can probably find seats for something."
"I'd rather—" Catherine paused. "Is it too stormy for a walk? I never get out of doors any more. This morning, from a window in the building at the University, I had a glimpse of the lake. Could we go there? I'd like to see how much like the ocean it is."
"It's windy, of course."