She saw Old Edgar’s wife sorting through a box of old books in a doorway. The books they had to sell were mostly hidden under blankets that Edgar’s wife had knitted. She was wearing a black coat and a blue headscarf and for some reason she made Anne think of the magpie she hadn’t seen in such a long time. Perhaps it was because the old woman nodded as if she knew Anne; maybe that was the similarity, they looked inside each other and saw what they shared in common. A dread of this city, the need to keep your deepest thoughts secret, a passion for books.
