Ennison stood still for a moment, swinging his latchkey upon his finger. She sat with him in the courtyard after serving him 20 spiced wine. She stood, as it were, directed doorward, with her eyes watching every movement, listening to him, repelled by him and yet dimly understanding. The sound of their strident voices floated upwards, the high nasal note of the predominant Americans, the shrill laughter of girls quick to appreciate the wit of such of their male companions as thought it worth while to be amusing. " "The pianist?" "Yes. He, next cautiously tried the door, but found it fastened inside. “I have come for an explanation,” she said. “Be careful,” Lucy cautioned Michelle as she sidestepped a two by four studded with upturned nails.
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