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From the threshold she looked her accuser steadily and coldly in the face. I shall be very sorry if I cannot have you for a friend. "Yes. ’ ‘And I love the way you call me imbecile,’ finished Gerald. Lucy sprinted to one side to avoid the crash and grabbed at Rhea’s solitary patch of yellow hair, which ripped out loosely in one decayed piece like strands of rotten corn silk. She saw herself begin a slow, sinuous dance: and stop suddenly in the middle of a figure, conscious that the dance was not impromptu, her own, but native—the same dance she had quitted but a few minutes gone.
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