Daphne paid for her purchases and Francine handed the seemingly endless bags of clothing to Atticus, who was sulking and gawking as Daphne casually walked out of the store with her head held high, after giving her thanks to the helpful shopkeeper. Atticus followed after her like an overprotective hound, half-expecting to beat men off with a stick for leering at his wife.
The Nedour afternoon sun was relentlessly hot, and even with her breezy new outfit, Daphne badly needed a drink, especially after her short argument with Atticus.
They found a quaint little cafe by the seaside to have a late lunch. Atticus wanted nothing more than to wrap his wife up in a thick cloak, but Daphne was still giving him the stink eye, so he reluctantly settled for sitting down and glaring at whoever dared to give Daphne more than a passing glance.
