. Brown engaged in the usual browbeating and complaining he reserved for sections who came in late and soloists who left tempo behind like the leftovers of a Sunday picnic. The unpleasant oily chill of fever overtook her body, and she watched in horror as Sebastian carried her to his bed on his shoulder like a sack of flour. But when she was thinking it over in her room that evening vague and baffling doubts came drifting across this conviction. While he was stirring his tea, she ran and fetched the comb. Mr Jarvis’s sister, that was. The longing to talk to someone! But in the end she had gone to her room without giving in to the craving. He cannot.
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