There was granite in her face and agate in her eyes. " And he pointed significantly to the hand. But she had not reckoned with the etiquette of Canongate. A long shrill cat-call in the gallery seemed to be the signal. “I can’t imagine, Miss Pellissier,” Brendon said, leaning towards her, “whatever made you think of coming to stay if only for a week at a Montague Street boarding-house. “Not at all. Michelle sat on her bed, which emanated scents of powdered laundry detergent and Sweet Honesty perfume. Hill was exchanging greetings with his hostess, and salutations around the table.
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