Ming was wearing a long-sleeved tunic and leggings. She sat down to put on her canvas slippers and took a moment to gather her thoughts. She could see Emmett’s house through the window–that window–and remembered what a pleasant view it had once been.
As she walked up the curving gravel drive, Ming tried to put her finger on what had been so disturbing about Emmett’s behavior that day. It wasn’t a big deal that he saw her naked: stuff like that happens, by accident. But he stayed there, tried to conceal himself, and lied to Eleanor about what he was doing.
Still, that wasn’t it; Ming knew that Emmett’s lust for Eleanor at that precise time and place was directed at her, whether he intended her to perceive it or not. It was an absence of ethics, toward her, his student; and Eleanor, anothe
