A good woman’s mind has angels with flaming swords at the portals to keep out fallen thoughts. Michelle winked at her and left to join the gathering of seats in the center of the theater. “It’s too bad. My son went down after his death. ‘And now,’ he said, drawing Madame to the seat, and contriving to sit close enough that his anatomy touched hers at several points, ‘let us talk about you, madame. She was dressed in one of those complicated dresses that are all lace and work and confused patternings of black and purple and cream about the body, and she was in many ways a younger feminine version of the same theme as himself.
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