He turned the wheel carefully as he touched her neck with the other, threading her soft curls in between his slim fingers. He was tender with her as he had not been in years. ’ ‘I didn’t bring him,’ Gerald returned swiftly. “To your room!” Michelle cowered, her face flushed with anger. She pointed suddenly at the portrait. Without a word or a gesture, the Wastrel turned and staggered forth, out of the orbit of these two, having been thrust into it for a single purpose already described. Outside stood a stocky, combat boot-clad girl of seventeen with a teased mass of spiky bottle-black hair. "It's like enough, I dare say," rejoined Sheppard. His hair had begun to gray, his belly had just begun to round.
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