She held it away from her with an instinctive repulsion, born of her unconquerable antipathy to the touch of strangers. "I'm my own master now, and I'll do as I please. He leaned towards her, laid his hand tenderly upon hers. "Do you still refuse to make one!" "I have made one," replied Lady Trafford. Then for the first time she was conscious of an unaccountable and terrifying sensation. Michelle had charitably taken to sitting with Lucy during Lunch Period, where she assumed a station at the outer edges of the Cafeteria, the crowd diffusing in concentric orbits, the middle tables reserved for only the most prestigious castes. Gosse cursed him finely, of course, but there was nothing he could do.
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