Ordinarily busy Mary Russell relaxes

Moments of pure relaxation were rare for me. There was always the nagging of books unread, work undone, time a-wasting. For this brief slice of an afternoon, though, the choice was taken from me; the only alternative to relaxation was fretting. But the sun was too warm and my muscles too pleasantly loosened to fret, so I stretched out my long legs, crossed them a the boots, folded my glasses onto my stomach, and gave myself over to the sheer debauchery of simply lying in the sun.

Laurie R. King, A Letter of Mary (New York: Picador, 1996), p. 235