The solos were revealing, sensual and moody. Shari squealed, clutching her towel around her. It is for that reason that this novel begins with her there, and neither earlier nor later, for it is the history of this crisis and its consequences that this novel has to tell. But some day she would find a place to love: there would be rosy apples on the boughs, and there would be flurries of snow blowing into her face. ’ ‘Lord, man, it’s only a scratch!’ Suddenly Gerald snapped his fingers. “Do you mind if I tweeze your eyebrows?” Shari asked her. " "But you are young!" It was a protest, almost vehement. Clarice loved babies as much as Lucia did and chattered about them day and night. A wrathful God was watching him.
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