But it wasn’t the harassment that bothered her. She had never been so happy to vomit. She visited the corner that had been her own little garden—her forget-me-nots and candytuft had long since been elbowed into insignificance by weeds; she visited the raspberry-canes that had sheltered that first love affair with the little boy in velvet, and the greenhouse where she had been wont to read her secret letters. And then: “Of course! Always. ” Annabel looked intently into her glass. But ——” A look checked him. That really settles about that. They went into Michelle's tiny bedroom, bare except for a dresser, a closet, and a miniscule single bed that resembled her own at the Becks. But to choose this of all moments.
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