She observed the tides, amazed by how high the water could rise, almost touching the tops of the cliffs. She changed into a halter top and a pair of tight jeans herself, and let Lucy brush her long, glossy hair as they talked about mascara, schoolwork, and boys. She found herself alone in the train asking herself what she must do next, and trying not to think of herself as cut off from home or any refuge whatever from the world she had resolved to face. These things did not harmonize with his conception of the forthcoming (if unavoidable) interview. He put an arm around her. Wood had retired to his own room, where he had just summoned Thames. Men do not understand constancy as women do.
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