Even though the individual faces of her audience were not to be singled out, she had been conscious from the first moment of her appearance that something was wrong. She was beauty, the key of magic, the teacher of spells, the predictor of wars, and the gate of the future. Nothing seemed to be amiss. Carp, tench, and roach were so divided that even the fins, heads and fleshless spines were sold. CHAPTER XIX. She wanted to return his gaze but focused intently on a spot next to and above the brick fireplace, as her music teachers had always taught her to do instead of looking directly at the audience. She realized more and more the quality of the brink upon which she stood—the dreadful readiness with which in certain moods she might plunge, the unmitigated wrongness and recklessness of such a self-abandonment.
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