She paced restlessly to the door and back again, biting her tongue on the hot words begging to be uttered. Someone bounded up the stairs, which groaned from the strain, unmistakably Mike. ’ ‘I’ve a good mind to leave the pair of you to it and take myself off,’ threatened his junior, marching across the room and snatching up a decanter. “I shall have to give up biology, anyhow. ” He took a quick step forward. They were only passers-by. The wine was sweetened with cinnamon and cloves and rare edible flowers, which her father had instructed her not to drink excessively of. They joined the rabble of aspiring James Deans in torn jeans and bomber jackets and girls with Clairol black hair smoking clove cigarettes. Go to her.
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