"An audience might have frightened the birds. “Why do you kill me?” Michelle asked. But I don’t care; I haven’t a spark of shame. ‘But of course. For what indeed does she do? A simple song, no gesture, no acting, nothing. She wished that the drive would never end, but it was only three miles after all. He leaned back in a low chair, and watched her graceful movements, the play of her white hands as she bent over some wonderful machine. She was sore and overstrung, and it was intolerable to her that he should stand within three yards of her unsuspectingly, with an incalculably vast power over her happiness.
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