At the back of her mind there seemed always one irrelevant qualifying spectator whose presence she sought to disregard. They were wed in Florence, in the grandest cathedral she had ever seen, the Santa Maria del Fiore. The same teardrop bust, the same long waist, the same thick legs. The turning of the key startled her, but she did not see how she could make an objection. ‘You should be. Michelle tossed her hair like a young colt flicking its tail. He did like her, anyhow; he was always pleased to be with her. The lady had disappeared. The one nearest to her, which must lead to the library. “Then I suppose when I have graduated I am to come home?” “It seems the natural course—” “And do nothing?” “There are plenty of things a girl can find to do at home.
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