The elusive Jane tapped her on the shoulder after class. ‘Dieu du ciel, for what do you take me?’ ‘I don’t know,’ he threw at her. Our men had him fast, held down in a chair. “Just like old times,” she thought sardonically. The unfortunate woman was stretched upon the floor, with a bloody knife in her hand. Michelle was laid onto the back seat, her head cradled in Lucy’s lap. Girls who had envied her former position as John’s amour passed no opportunity to utter cryptic remarks as she sat in Study Hall, walked down hallways, or rinsed her hands in the bathroom.
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