She spent the morning up to ten in writing a series of unsuccessful letters to Ramage, which she tore up unfinished; and finally she desisted and put on her jacket and went out into the lamp-lit obscurity and slimy streets. Her girl, Clarice, was ten and just as pretty as a silver bell. “It’s either now or never,” she said to herself. We come out into the world, some of us—” She paused. Perhaps if I had watched over her more closely, things would have been different. ‘Parbleu,’ she uttered indignantly. She looked at me as though I were some unclean thing, as though my soul were weighted with every sin in the calendar. The trio finally arrived home at 3:48 in the morning, and she saw lights that indicated the awareness of some of the nosier Beck neighbors. Lucy stared like an automaton at Michelle’s unconscious 262 body, revolted at her own actions to the point of shock. The rest were hieroglyphic characters, executed in red chalk and charcoal. “Want one?” Michelle deadpanned.
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