Sarah turns from the mirror. Sarah is to meet her lover tonight. She makes for the door, but before getting there she loses momentum, wanders from side to side, and ends up stamping her foot angrily on the floor. Her skin is clear, her eyes bright, but something . . . something . . . remains to be done before she is ready to set out to meet him. M. seeing her dilemma, seizes his opportunity and, after springing from the dusty corner where he has been resting, he scampers across the floor like some pet rodent, coming up against her shoes with a bump. He kneels before her and places her feet on his lap. Taking off her shoes - quickly for he fears she is about to stop him and of course he knows exactly what is needed before she is ready to venture out - he takes one foot in both hands and puts it a little way into his mouth like some expensive sandwich he wants to savour. Then, baring his front teeth he bites through her nails one after another, making little sideways sawing movements and small chops, all the time controlling his natural inclination to shake his head and tear. While he is doing this his eyes roll upwards, whether for pleasure or in the hope of some scrap of affection thrown him, she can't tell. M. does the same for the other foot. When he is done, Sarah puts her shoes back on and quite happy now, quite confident that she is in perfect order to go out and meet her lover now, makes for the door. Just before leaving she leans backwards, and not bothering to turn her head to M., says to him in a manner which is indeed quite reminiscent of a pet-owner throwing him a morsel of food: "Oh! By the way! You can take the parings home with you if you want."
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