‘I knew I should find you still here. But for a long time, anyhow, we lovers have to be as if we were no more than friends. She felt herself falling, her bile rising in her 61 throat, the cold wind spinning around her like vertigo. ‘That—that—why do you speak of him?’ ‘Because I feel you ought to know,’ Gerald said calmly, but rising and watching her closely, ‘that all your trouble may be in vain. The music took hold of her slowly as her eyes wandered from the indistinct still ranks of the audience to the little busy orchestra with its quivering violins, its methodical movements of brown and silver instruments, its brightly lit scores and shaded lights. “Well,” she admitted.
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