” “Any one could see that the girls were ladies,” Ennison murmured. With thinly veiled glee, Michelle described a rumor she had heard about John at a recent party. In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen. From now on, you’re going to listen to me for a change. A slow heavy thumping started up in Melusine’s chest, and she scarcely took in the astonished silence in those present in the room. She still could not muster the strength to leave. I thought that he was dead.
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