It did not occur to her that they at least had found a way of earning a living, and had that much economic superiority to herself. 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. Was that it? Had she clothed this unhappy young man with glamour? Or was it because he was so alone? She could not get through the husks to the kernel of what really actuated her. She could hear the raucous laughter and bad music below. So, bloody but unbeaten, weak and spent but undaunted, he waited for the Wastrel to spring up. "Sounds as if I had heard it, but I can't place it this minute.
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