"Violet," Carrie said, "has loosed instruction for the day." Carrie tucked up her hair. The locket of her breast now gleamed.
        Rose sucked the scent. Not jonquils through whose white cool tissue she searched and saw the pale smooth skin Carrie's parted blouse admitted her abstinence though Carrie was unaware. Rose snarled behind the jonquils a moment, silently. Of course she was unaware! Who wasn't?
        She.
        Horns and whistles proclaimed.
        "Violet," Carrie went on with the bright rooftops in her cornflower eyes, "will teach profound truths this day."
        Rose glimmed sarcasm, denial.
        Carrie noticed her hair. "And she will lose only what is precious." Carrie gazed on Violet no longer.
        But upon Rose, or more precisely perhaps, upon Rose's hair, the shining deep lengths piled high to auburn heights redolent of rosemary and time, sun, she meant, she located herself and heard Rose startled, "Lose? Lose?"
        "No," Carrie said. "She will learn only what is precious."
        Rose suspicious clutched jonquils at her waist forgotten. Carrie never made mistakes
like that.