“It couldn’t be. Her shoulders began to ache. It was now a quarter past twelve. That's the job. He wondered if the young fool had any idea of what he had drawn in this tragic lottery called marriage. Gravely he placed them in his aunt's hand. What would happen to her? Would her soul be shaken, twisted, hypnotized?—as it had been those other times? Music—that took out of her the sense of reality, whirled her into the clouds, that gave to her will the directless energy of a chip of wood on stormy waters. \" Michelle met her at her locker, right on schedule, carrying a backpack so overstuffed it was its own conversation piece. “This girl—she’s really a very charming, frank person—had had her imagination fired, so she told me, by a school performance of Romeo and Juliet.
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