“I have come for an explanation,” she said. “Have you not heard?” she said. 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. She was flushed, and her eyes were bright and angry; her breath came sobbing, and her hair was all abroad in wandering strands of black. “I am so sorry to have startled you,” she said, “but I was startled myself. ‘The major thinks she’s worth it,’ put in Prudence quietly. ” Michelle streamed over to them as if on cue, her eyes not meeting Mike’s. She could feel his penis pressing against her, half-erect under the starched black tuxedo pants. Ann Veronica had had some training at the Tredgold College in disentangling threads from confused statements, and she had a curious persuasion that in all this fluent muddle there was something—something real, something that signified.
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