Perhaps you’ve heard—?’ Well, you know, he had. His diminutive hand flew out from behind his back like a wounded bird. 181 < 22 > MICHELLE’S STORY The week at school was mostly uneventful save Michelle’s enthusiasm and constant ploys for attention. He needed to laugh, but only she laughed as he chuckled weakly. She never grew angry for anything her husband did: such anger as came to her was directed against the lazy, incompetent servant who was always snooping about in the inner temple—Spurlock's study. “God in Heaven, Annabel!” he cried.
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