She was aware of it now as if it were a voice shouting outside a house, shouting passionate verities in a hot sunlight, a voice that cries while people talk insincerely in a darkened room and pretend not to hear. The thought of you, wandering from pillar to post, believing yourself hunted—it tore my old heart to pieces! For I knew you. It was John Diedermayer, who had been transformed into a young scholar with a large pair of wire-rimmed eyeglasses on. C below. Some shadow of reserve seemed to have crept up between them. You'd better lose no time. In the sixth center row sat an unexpected guest, his Classical Greek features stark in the yellow half light.
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