He began a jerky, broken conversation that lasted until they reached the station, and left her puzzled at its drift and meaning. " "Who are you?" ejaculated Trenchard, scarcely able to credit his senses. Playing became a way of escape. That is not reasonable. “What has she told you?” “Everything. She saw her life before her robbed of all generous illusions, the wrappered life unwrappered forever, vistas of dull responses, crises of makebelieve, years of exacting mutual disregard in a misty garden of fine sentiments. She hesitated in answering the door, her violin still crooked underneath her chin. There is strength in you— misguided.
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