Rose was carrying a basket on her hip. She was sweating. It was hot and now she was dragging the limpets she had been collecting up to her yard to join other women in preparing fishing lines. Rose knew town well and so she passed through different lanes and yards, instead of taking the main roads, as it was much quicker. But as she entered one of the narrow yards, she stopped in her tracks and wrinkled her nose. “Claude? What on earth do you think you’re doing?” She put her basket down just to be able to put her hands on her hips.