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“You’d have to think how to get in between his bones. She hastened past. ‘Ah, now I may see what damage Gérard has done to me,’ she muttered, crossing to the table and putting her hand to the sore place at her neck. Voices floated down, but there was no sound of pursuit. Michelle looked her up and down, liking the results of her efforts. Stanley lost patience. He hung over her—he and his loan to her and his connection with her and that terrible evening—a vague, disconcerting possibility of annoyance and exposure. When I went I was refused admittance. She hesitated. For the first time in her life she had heard music; the door to enchanted sounds had been flung wide. Now lend me your own hand.
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