Michelle burst into laughter, followed by John, who almost spit up his cola. Cosette sat under the table, still as a mouse, fondling her pitiful doll. Lucy’s guts ached with jealousy and bitterness, building in a knot that twisted in her stomach, rag-like. Ennison,” she exclaimed, “is that really you?” There was no sign of embarrassment in her manner. Her teachers and mistresses had done their best to stamp her mind with an ineradicable persuasion that it was tremendously important, and on no account to be thought about. The thing rankled in her mind night and day.
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