" At this juncture, the door opened, and Thames entered the room. ” Ann Veronica started from her reverie, sat up in her chair, became attentive. Three times he uttered a phrase: "A djinn in a blue-serge coat!" And each time he would follow it with a chuckle—the chuckle of a soul in damnation. The black clad students streamed slowly to their positions carrying their instruments like offerings to the pilgrimage. The drawers at the moment were too busy to attend to her, and she would have seized the opportunity of examining, unperceived, the assemblage within, through a little curtained window that overlooked the adjoining chamber, if an impediment had not existed in the shape of Baptist Kettleby, whose portly person entirely obscured the view. His physical body was predictably paralyzed with shyness and fear of rejection, barely soothed with a series 51 of blatantly direct requests and compliments. Lucy stood relieved that she had not messed up the solo.
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