” “When is Michaelmas Day?” said Ann Veronica, a little abruptly. What would happen to her? Would her soul be shaken, twisted, hypnotized?—as it had been those other times? Music—that took out of her the sense of reality, whirled her into the clouds, that gave to her will the directless energy of a chip of wood on stormy waters. “You’re still,” he said, “in the educational years. God knows how you did it. But I see now. I’d only have to do something about it, and that I can’t. Ann Veronica stared at his foolish, propitiatory smile, his hungry gaze, through one moment of amazement, then stepped aside and went on her way with a quickened step. ” She had had so much time to learn the violin that she often thought to herself that she ought to be much more skilled at it. ” She tried to sound convincing as she looked away hotly. ‘Damnation! Too late.
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