This gloom was impossible. People hounded him about the disappearances mercilessly for weeks after the concert, first the police, then the Becks, then people from school. Some man! And to conclude it all was the figure of her father in the doorway, giving her a last chance, his hat in one hand, his umbrella in the other, shaken at her to emphasize his point. He had taken it back. Her sadness was manageable only because she was so familiar with its phases, because she could observe its moods remotely, like an astronomer studying the moon. However, no one had discovered me, so I contrived to drag myself to my horse. Ruth had lived in a world without caresses. He knew she would be there, practicing alone in 118. The lad had just barely jangled it, when hurrying footsteps could be heard inside. She held it down with the poker, looking nervously over her shoulder. I should lose every scrap of independence—even my self-respect. “I will tell you the truth.
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