The smell assaulted them even before they entered the restaurant, greasy and savory. She thought of them as fools, but had been sorry to see them go. The one profession, the one decent profession, I mean, for a woman—except the stage— is teaching, and there we trample on one another. Michelle tossed her hair like a young colt flicking its tail. Gosse twisted his body to avoid another thrust, and the heavy candlesticks fell, rolling with a noise like thunder, and falling with a thud to the floor. The rest were hieroglyphic characters, executed in red chalk and charcoal. That held his thought as the magnet holds the needle, inescapably.
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