The rain came down in torrents. The streets were filled with water--the street, the gutters, and the floors of the poorer houses. The sky was grey and dreary, the wind was cold and clammy and the day was a quiet sort of awful
Nathan and Sacripant glanced out the window. "You still want to go out in this?" muttered Nathan.
The Erl nodded. "I'm from the fens," said Sacripant. "We call this a good autumn, back in Valse."
The Lamplighter stared at him for a moment. "Everytime you mention this 'Valse', I grow a little more fearful of the place."
"That's the idea," replied Sacripant, as he headed for the door. "There's a reason I left my hometown as if it were on fire. I mean, aside from my being a pig-headed young man."
Nathan glanced at him. "Don't you want... better boots?"
"Told you, I'm a Marsh Erl," said Sacripant. "I don't mind this at all." He stepped outside. "Yep. Feels good! Cool and wet! Just like home!"
Nathan watched him for a moment and then sighed as he stood up. "Monica!" he shouted. "I'll be..." His wife approached him with his stormy weather boots. Nathan stared at her for a moment. "How did you...?"
"I've been married to you for a long time," she answered. "Put the boots on."
Nathan did so and then got into his great coat. Sacripant smiled at him as he stepped out. "Heh. Knew you'd come."
"Yes, yes, you and my wife," muttered Nathan. "Now come on. I'll show you to the damn Sextons."
"Yeah, Monica's a great lady," said Sacripant. "She kind of reminds of my fiancee."
"You have a fiancee?" said Nathan.
Sacripant nodded. "Yep. You'd like her. I mean, once she no longer scared you. Which would be your immediate response."
Nathan nodded. "Definitely sounds like Monica."