Sheila was finishing her laughter as Lucy brought an elbow down on the back of her head, expertly snapping the vertebra that connected Sheila’s head to her shoulders. "How go you like your quarters, sauce-box?" asked Sharples, in a jeering tone. You are very kind. “I’m sorry. “You love some one else?” he repeated. Her feathered hat fell from her head and down her back, and she felt fingers writhing in the mass of her hair and caressing the flesh of her neck beneath so that she shivered uncontrollably. She stared at him. Cathy reached out and touched Lucy’s chin with her two fingers, gently commanding her attention.
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