“Can Lucy and I go out for a walk?” Michelle interrupted the violin conversation petulantly. That terrible laughter, just before his senses had left him! Why? Here was a word that volleyed at her from all directions, numbed and bewildered her: the multiple echoes of her own first utterance of the word. Tears sprang to her eyes. “I’ve had most of the things I wanted,” said Ramage, in the stillness of the night. He played for an hour—Grieg, Chopin, Rubenstein, Liszt, crashing music. ‘And it is me you dare accuse? It is yourself you should arrest. Looking for something, or someone, probably.
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