Fire; she was full of it. He was almost frightening in silhouette, his hair uncontrollable under the best of circumstances, but that changed when you saw his face. The music took hold of her slowly as her eyes wandered from the indistinct still ranks of the audience to the little busy orchestra with its quivering violins, its methodical movements of brown and silver instruments, its brightly lit scores and shaded lights. Lucy clutched the pencil in defeat. And yet to Spurlock it was only the title of a story he would some day write. ” “Well?” “I went from Anna’s flat to Nigel Ennison’s rooms. She would be elemental; there would be in her somewhere the sleeping tigress.
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