By the time he gets back she has already retired to her room. Both oil lamps are lit, placed side-by-side on the dry sink. She's got the one little wooden chair dragged out into the middle of the room near the source of light, so she can sit and mend her blouse.

Her hair is pinned back and she's only in her undergarments, save for a clean pair of britches. The cotton shift she slept in last night is thrown over a screen in the corner of the room, and she has a fresh blouse hung nearby for whenever Gene comes to call.

She supposes it hasn't been very long, but she worries after him all the same. Nothing good ever comes from when he's being cryptic.