The sun was all but gone now, the horizon a deep shade of purple. His first reaction had been explosive as the hurts of the past rose up to taunt him. Michelle tossed her hair like a young colt flicking its tail. In the adjacent apartment Ann Veronica found a middle-aged woman with a tired face under the tired hat she wore, sitting at a desk opening letters while a dusky, untidy girl of eight-or nine-and-twenty hammered industriously at a typewriter. Was the situation so desperate that he could not pack his best things? She had packed lightly, not wanting to weigh down the carriage they would travel in. Besides, the sun had gone in and it looked like rain.
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