” The lights sank, the prelude to the third act was beginning, the music rose and fell in crowded intimations of lovers separated—lovers separated with scars and memories between them, and the curtain went reefing up to display Tristan lying wounded on his couch and the shepherd crouching with his pipe. They went into Michelle's tiny bedroom, bare except for a dresser, a closet, and a miniscule single bed that resembled her own at the Becks. . ’ ‘But you must,’ Gerald said, quite as if he meant it. I—I hurt myself. ” He held his breath as she reached over the stick shift and touched his face. She had never even brought a friend home in her time at the Becks, let alone been asked on dates. ” Michelle groaned and stopped eating dessert. "He lives at Dollis Hill, a beautiful spot near Willesden, about four or five miles from town, where he has taken a farm. ‘I can manage now. I am an independent sort of person,” she continued, “and I am engaged in an attempt to earn my own living. He never finished his sentence.
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