“Now you must go,” she said firmly. Sheppard, meekly. She tiptoed into the entryway where some decorator had placed a live orchid upon a glassy ebony table. Love and lavender, he thought, perhaps wistfully. Rituals instead of medicines. She could not resist enduing persons she met with the noble attributes of the fictional characters. Annabel had taken her life into her hands with gay insouciance, had made her own friends, gone her own way. 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. She set her fingers in the hair and tugged, drawing him to a sitting posture and stooping so that her eyes would be on the level with his when he awoke. A traffic of copious barges slumbered over the face of the river-barges either altogether stagnant or dreaming along in the wake of fussy tugs; and above circled, urbanely voracious, the London seagulls.
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