” 109 < 15 > AN AFFAIR TO FORGET, 1965 “What was your real Mom like?” Michelle asked when they were walking to school the next day. Wood, whose admiration for masculine beauty was by no means abated, glanced at the well-proportioned figure of the young man, and made him a very civil salutation. That suggested delicacy; and yet her young body was strong and vital. She leaned forward and addressed him. I don’t mean I’m not a good woman—I mean that I’m not a GOOD woman. Get a license—just an idea of mine. She threw hat and coat on the bed and sat down before the fire. A spot of colour, brighter than any rouge, burned on her cheeks. Perhaps it had been pick-pocketed or jostled from her dress in a hunt.
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