"My father had a wonderful library, but it was nothing like the libraries here. I love those, and spent most of my first few weeks at one of the tables in there piled high wither everything I could grab." Sybil recounts the story happily, remembering those days with the fondness that comes with distance. At the time she had been stressed and worried and out of sorts, trying to find something familiar to cleave to. "I still go too often. I love novels, actually, some of the most dreadful things sometimes."

She sips the tea, the hint of bergamot and lavender mixed with milk a comfort she can't deny. "It's large, and clean." She laughs at her own words, knowing how vague and non-descriptive they are. "Everything is metal and shining. It's silly to say but so clean. It's also distant, in many ways. Health is a business as much as anything else. They can heal many things, but some still confound."