Michelle tossed her hair like a young colt flicking its tail. Still he had a decent look, and decidedly the air of one well-to-do in the world. ’ ‘And if she can’t?’ asked Lucy. “Well, what is it?” “Montague Hill is recovering consciousness,” he said. She attempted by a sheer act of will to end the scene, to will herself out of it anywhere. What reassured her, however, more than anything else, was the shape of the mouth: it was warmly turned. There was no one at all in this room, but through the half-open door of one of the small apartments that gave upon it she had a glimpse of two very young girls sitting at a littered table and writing briskly. It fits your style.
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