’ Taking the chair she had indicated with a careless wave of one stiff-fingered hand, Gerald felt hope burgeoning. The real tragedy—which he sensed and toward which he was always reaching—eluded all his verbal skill. “These are her rooms,” she said. ” He left the room, and she stood motionless, with flaming cheeks, listening to his retreating footsteps. But in its stead—toward morning—there appeared another idea which appealed to him as sublime, appealed to the primitive conscience, to his artistic sense of the drama, to the poet and the novelist in him. “Why waste yourself, John?” 241 < 31 > THE CONCERT Martin Chen showed up early for the pre-concert warm-up at 5:00. For a time she worried about that compulsory bath and cutaneous diseases.
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