“No, not that I know of,” Michelle replied, her still eyes not meeting Lucy’s. He was ill at ease, though he would not have confessed his disquietude even to himself. The wind blew in fitful gusts, and scattered the yellow leaves from the elms and horse-chestnuts. Do you know the story of Orpheus? He was a musician who followed his damned wife into Hell to bring her back? He was one of us, I believe. She interrupted. ‘There you have soldiers. “He must never know,” she would whisper to herself, “he must never know. ” Ennison looked steadily at the cigarette which he was tapping on his forefinger. It had been a trying day. The other was helping Trodger with his operation upstairs. She looked 57 forward to when Sebastian visited. Perhaps this was the real turning point: the hour in which the disordered mind began permanently to readjust itself.
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