They came from every part, from the pit, the circle and the gallery, even from the stalls. " "Why, what the devil's this?" vociferated Jonathan, looking up. She got up and unlocked the door. “Is this true, Annabel? Is he dead?” She nodded. The joy that filled her veins with throbbing fire urged her to rise and go swinging and whirling and dipping. Over one of the pinnacles of the tower a speck of pallid light marked the position of the moon, then newly born and newly risen. She imagined descending the stairs, hearing Mike’s uproarious laughter as she peeked around a vacant corner with a lump in her throat. She stood among them, watching them and feeling curiously alien to them.
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