She was practicing with them on that very day, and displaced a rather mediocre boy violinist who claimed “to be better at the viola anyway” as first chair. She had not anticipated such a response from her classmates, but knew to be drawing them with her self-consciousness as if they were bees to pollen. ‘Not where we’re going. She saw now that it was not a dissipated face; it was as smooth and unlined as polished marble, which at present it resembled. Though scarcely two hours past midnight, it was perfectly light. He might miss at this distance. I thought it was a mirror at the first, for it was so very like myself.
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