181 < 22 > MICHELLE’S STORY The week at school was mostly uneventful save Michelle’s enthusiasm and constant ploys for attention. I cannot turn into a bat. We girls, my sister and I, were left quite alone when our father died, and I made up my mind to make some little place in the world for myself. He had the appearance of a man who has known no rest for many nights. White,” she remarked. Single pearls— Lord knows where they come from!—are always turning up, some of them of fine lustre; but I never set eyes on them. So, in broken, rather breathless phrases, he told his story; and when he had done, he laid his arms upon the table and bent his head to them. She was still fully dressed; so all she had to do was to pause before the mirror and give her hair a few pats.
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