This is an untitled, unfinished novel that was technically left alone in late 2008. However, the last time it was modified and checked for errors was 2011, where upon I decided that the absurdity of the plot combined with the sloppy British research was too much for the story to continue. However, seeing as this is Whims of the Time Traveler, it's a perfect example of my first attempt at long fiction, so I've decided to unabashedly display it. Have fun. Untitled: Chapter Six by Belinda Roddie “Joan?” I didn’t answer. “Joan?” It was useless to ignore Alfred; I had been attempting to ignore him throughout breakfast, but I knew that he was going to force a response out of me even if he had to repeat my name like a parrot. I looked up at him in acknowledgement. “You haven’t eaten anything,” Alfred was saying, looking over his newspaper with his eyes welling with a sort of concern that seemed almost exaggerated to me. “You’ve just been picking at it. Are you all right?