She did not remember how many seasons it took before she relented, how much time before she decided to toy with his affections. “How are you?” He asked, realizing she was unnerved by the very sound of his voice. “Who on earth did you study violin with?” Michelle jumped in. She seemed to think he was merely the paymaster, handing over the means of her freedom. Anyhow he confessed that he was a fraud. She walked down the station approach, past the neat, obtrusive offices of the coal merchant and the house agent, and so to the wicket-gate by the butcher’s shop that led to the field path to her home.
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