She went to her room and changed the loose morning gown in which she had lunched for a dark walking dress. ‘That little kiss cost him his sanctuary, my girl, and don’t you forget it. Her little bedsitting-room was like a lair, and she went out from it into this vast, dun world, with its smoke-gray houses, its glaring streets of shops, its dark streets of homes, its orange-lit windows, under skies of dull copper or muddy gray or black, much as an animal goes out to seek food. They don’t know who did it, actually. He took her there on the cold, dirty floor, his nails digging into her back, his teeth sinking into her breasts. She seemed tense when not playing, he noted, more so than she had during the first two pieces. “Don’t!” she begged. “Is everything okay?” His mother touched his 251 shoulder gently, standing up. Brown gushed conservatively about the orchestra, letting the audience know about the recording engineers and how proud he was of Martin Chen. ‘Not from the nuns, no.
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