A sinister thought edged in. I want him as my friend. 142 < 18 > THE HIGH PRICE OF FAME Michelle became a constant in those weeks, basking in the shame-ridden celebrity that had been created around Lucy. " "Accident or not," rejoined Sheppard; "you're no longer pall of mine. “Martin Chen!” Michelle shouted his name in an outburst, like an invocation. But he was destined to have every tide of feeling awakened—every wound opened. Smiling, the Chinaman gave the correct pronunciation. “I’m ready,” said Ann Veronica, closing her microscope-box with a click, and looking for one brief instant up the laboratory. The months that followed September spiraled downward. There you are, the best client’s chair. She felt scrawny, lanky, badly dressed in a baggy black T-shirt, sweaty, not at all beautiful; not even pretty. For a time he would be the grim Protestant Flagellant, pursuing the idea of self-castigation.
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