" Bamboo and bead tinkled and slithered behind him. The struggle had dislodged the white wimple, which was evidently too large for her, and her black hair broke free, whirling like a whiplash about her head as her hands curled into fists, coming up to beat at his chest, her little teeth bared for attack. The Bach Cantata was played fairly well, Sebastian thought, for a lot of children. I’ve always wanted to look older. ” He stood looking at the preparations before them with an unusual preoccupation of manner, then roused himself to take her jacket, a little awkwardly, and hand it to the waiter who hung it in the corner of the room. For her mother to betray her seemed inevitable, but the betrayal seemed worse than her fate. Why? If she had put the query to herself, she could not have answered it.
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