A new day. Miss Barton has assigned me a corner of the lower works of Cambria Iron—one of the few buildings to withstand the flood. The blast furnaces have been fired up. White smoke billows from the chimneys. It’s a blessing to the workers. Most resumed their jobs almost immediately after the water receded. The exhaustion of physical labor took their minds off the tragedies beyond the plant’s doors. Inside is no place for a lady, yet I endeavor to make it so. In my out-of-the-way nook, I sweep out the layers of dirt accumulated by the machinery’s exhaust and the neglect of men. Using clean sheets Mr. Eggar and I carted down the hill from the cottage, volunteers help me construct privacy curtains with rope tied around steel beams. We secure the pier glass from my bedroom to a stanchion near the wall. I fill several of my porcelain pitchers with fresh water. Behind each curtain is a basin. Thankfully, the water lines in town have been restored. Admittedly, Eugene eyed me askance yesterday when I dragged my dress form down the cottage stairs.
What do You think about The Woman In The Photo (2016)?
