She had never experienced anything so disagreeable in her life as the sense of being held helplessly off her feet. He rolled on top of her, pinning her with his arms and forming a tented cage. Sebastian traveled at seventy, eighty, then one-hundred down the freeway. As soon as dinner was over she went into the kitchen and devoted herself to compiling a tray—not a tray merely of halfcooled dinner things, but a specially prepared “nice” tray, suitable for tempting any one. Sometimes the music would be tender and dreamy, like a native mother's crooning to her young; sometimes it would be so gay that the flesh tingled and the feet were urged to dance; again, it would be like the storms crashing, thunderous.
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