He heard Rollo's stump beat a gentle tattoo on the floor. Coldly she spoke, in a distinctly accented voice. Playing with one hand he turned on his stool to glance at her. Sheppard put out her arms mechanically. “You are too good for me,” she said in a low voice. 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. The house became joyous again with the talk of babies and wedding festivities. She liked to do it for Cathy Beck, so that she could relax after waitressing all day at the Big Apple with a homemade meal. Steeples toppled, and towers reeled beneath its fury.
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