But something drew her, until it became an
unbearable effort to keep her eyes away from it, to look anywhere else;
and at last she turned her head, stared, sharply, defiantly, as though
daring it.
It was five-and-twenty minutes to nine. Five-and-twenty minutes to
nine, and the concert was to have begun at eight!--Five-and-twenty
minutes to nine, and there was no one there--no one whatever!
The clock hands dragged themselves on for another five-minutes; then
one of the men disappeared behind the scene; came back, speaking
excitedly, gesticulating with white hands:
"We're to turn on the light. 'E swears as 'e won't give it up--'e's
goin' ter play."
"Goin' ter play? Well, I'll be blowed!--Goin' ter play! An' with
nothing 'ere but _That_"
Jenny saw how he jerked his head in her direction. So she was
"That"--she, Jenny Bligh!--and so far gone that she did not even care.
As the lights went up the hall seemed to swim in a sort of mist: the
terra-cotta walls, the heavy curtains at either side of the platform,
those awful empty seats!
Jenny spread her skirt wide, catching at the chair to either side of
her, stretching out her arms along the backs of them.
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