” “Dear me,” Anna laughed, “how unfortunate! What ought I to do? Should I be forgiven, do you think, if I were to go and hold that skein of wool for the old lady in the yellow cap?” “Don’t speak of her irreverently,” Brendon said, in an awed whisper. Michelle pulled a Kleenex out of a Pocket Pack and blew her nose. Spurlock had not coached her on this line of conduct. Her recent attitude towards him was undoubtedly a pose. She was vehemently impatient—she did not clearly know for what—to do, to be, to experience. She felt surges of longing escape every corner of her flesh. "What of her?" exclaimed Jack, starting up. He savored the last solo, the coda.
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