\" He leaned at a steeper pitch. He had deliberately saved it for last. \"Ever thought about letting me do something with your hair?\" Not needing an answer, Shari got up and whipped out a vented brush from an overstuffed drawer. In this way, more than a month passed over. She became as The Tigress, a free thing. "All life is a muddle, and we are all muddlers, more or less. He might miss at this distance. Inexplicably there flashed into vision the Chinese wedding procession in the narrow, twisted streets of the city, that first day: the gorgeous palanquin, the tomtoms, the weird music, the ribald, jeering mob that trailed along behind. She drifted back into the welcoming arms of sleep, feeling herself surrounded in silk. Practically. “Look at our affair,” he went on, looking up at her.
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