You are the High Priestess of Life. Why aren’t you folded up clean in lavender—as every young woman ought to be? What have you been doing with yourself?. Not a word was uttered for some time, nor any sound heard except the stilled sobs of the unfortunate mother. Mike had suffered severe depression in his first years with the Becks, but had grown to think of them as his natural family to the degree that his past seemed like a distant memory. He was perched on the very edge of the leather seat of the coach, his threecornered hat twisting nervously in his hands, and from time to time he passed a tongue over dry lips.
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