For the present the desire to fly was gone. A white house that she often found charming loomed gray and ashen, its gardens shorn for the coming winter. 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. She crushed the letter in her hand. \"Yes, I'd love to go. Jonathan Wild and his bloodhounds, with a hundred others, incited by the reward, will be upon my track. I looked upon you from the first as the most promising of my pupils.
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