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. ‘You put that thing away now, missie. It is not for myself I fear. There were neither texts nor rubbish on the walls, but only a stirring version of Belshazzar’s feast, a steel engraving in the early Victorian manner that had some satisfactory blacks. Martin scrutinized Lucy more closely, but Lucy could tell that Michelle’s credibility had been damaged as her stifled sobs were heard upstairs. After all, it came to him suddenly as a harsh discovery that she might be in a sense regarded as grownup. Michelle was laid onto the back seat, her head cradled in Lucy’s lap. “Good,” he said, as he watched the colour come back to her cheeks. Fiercely defensive, as usual. It was free of leering men, unthinkable punishments, and human evil. S. E.
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