She took refuge in beating her pillow and inventing insulting epithets for herself. If they had any idea the concerts he had seen, they would have known the quality of her playing. As though it was indelicate—it’s just a sort of shyness. He looked at Annabel, whose face was buried in her hands— he looked back at Anna, who was regarding him with an easy composure which secretly irritated him. He had come to Anna’s rooms from a dinner party, and he was in evening dress. I studied violin with a teacher when I was younger,” she said. “My dear child,” he said, “with me you need have no apprehension. “You shall go,” he declared.
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