There was no broken faith—not even any question of anything of the sort. “So, how’d it go?” Lucy sighed. It was at the top of the building, and looked clear over a clustering mass of inferior buildings toward Regent’s Park. ” She smiled grimly at the recollection of that lunch—tea and roll at a cheap café. And her mother, looking unusually alert and hectic, wore cream and brown also, made up in a more complicated manner. There was no sense in creating further difficulties for herself by arguing with the sergeant over her identity. The program was to include a Bach cantata, her favorite piece from Rimsky-Korsakov’s Scheherazade, and for the first time ever, a student composition, a Concerto, by a precociously talented fellow student named Martin Chen.
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