To be alone with her, in idleness, was an intolerable thought. So Michelle’s plans were to out her in front of an audience. She held up the lamp. ‘You ought to be glad someone cares enough about your wretched little neck to try and save it. And here you are!” Her aunt opened all the fingers of her gloved hand in a rhetorical gesture. A girl—at my age—is grown-up. He had hurt her. She thought gleefully of the dress she would get to wear for the Ball (Prom?) and could not wait to tell her foster family about how excited she was. But I've an idea as well as you, grounded in some measure upon Sheppard's story.
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