She breathed deeply of the starch of his shirt. He glanced up at the coachman. With a finger crooked in his side-pocket, she measured her step with his, her senses still dizzy from the echo of the magic sounds. Anna tore it open and passed it to Courtlaw. ‘She’s still bleeding. Cathy sighed. Mark you, she wasn’t the only one. He found a coach at the door, with the blinds carefully drawn up, and ascertained from a tall, ill-looking, though tawdrily-dressed fellow, who held his horse by the bridle, and whom he addressed as Quilt Arnold, that the two boys were safe inside, in the custody of Abraham Mendez, the dwarfish Jew. She stuffed her violin in its case and rushed into the hallway towards John, who stood outside of 118 with his arms crossed. She dressed rapidly and left the theatre without a word to any one.
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