And if he didn’t, what was the good of seeing him? “I wish he was a woman,” she said, “then I could make him my friend. 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. “May I ask whether you are staying with friends in town?” he inquired deferentially. "I'll tackle it to-night!" "But it's after ten!" "What's that got to do with it? … The roofs of the native huts scattering in the wind! … the absolute agony of the twisting palms!…. Her long incarceration at the convent in Blaye had taught her to be dismissive of her own appearance.
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