They went into Michelle's tiny bedroom, bare except for a dresser, a closet, and a miniscule single bed that resembled her own at the Becks. Sheppard, returning his embrace with all a parent's tenderness. Outside stood a stocky, combat boot-clad girl of seventeen with a teased mass of spiky bottle-black hair. ‘I should have thought it was obvious. Why in heaven’s name didn’t I think of that before?’ ‘What are you talking of?’ ‘Never mind that now. Smith, may have rather odd ways with them; but—" "They have very odd ways," interrupted Mrs. He started a dozen stories, but they all ended in the waste-basket. Or had she, like himself, been held up until the fellow returned to town? He waited, his ready humour anticipating her likely reaction.
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