It is for that reason that this novel begins with her there, and neither earlier nor later, for it is the history of this crisis and its consequences that this novel has to tell. Gerald did not know who she was, but he knew who she was not. This was the worst summer that I ever had in my life, Europe and all, and I can’t tell you how many times I drove by that Violin Camp hoping to catch a look at you, praying that there wasn’t some horny violin guy waiting to ask you out. What was the objection? She found it impossible to look her own diffidence in the face. The sounds that reach the ear, and the objects that meet the eye, are all calculated to awaken a train of sad and serious contemplation. She cried for hours but would not scream as her mother was packed into a marble coffin. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. ” He replied lightly and stepped towards her.
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