’ ‘How do you do?’ Gerald said pleasantly, stepping from the pillared portico and coming down the shallow stairway. It reminded her of one of the old tales her mother Marina had told her about a sculptor named Farhat. 181 < 22 > MICHELLE’S STORY The week at school was mostly uneventful save Michelle’s enthusiasm and constant ploys for attention. You haven’t an idea what the sort of employment you could get there would be like, the sort of people you would be mixed up with. Just beyond there would be her heart's desire. Her eyes were perhaps a little brighter than usual, the firelight played about her hair, there seemed to him to be a sudden softening of the straight firm mouth. In the matter of his conscience he was primitive; and for an educated man to become primitive is to become something of a child.
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