Part 7 Then one day a little thing happened that clothed itself in significance. She was practicing with them on that very day, and displaced a rather mediocre boy violinist who claimed “to be better at the viola anyway” as first chair. “But it makes me feel inhuman,” he added. "You have betrayed me," said he, in a deep whisper, to his companion; "but you shall reap the reward of your treachery. She could not analyse what was stirring in her: the thought of losing the doll, the dog, and the cat. She met his eye for a moment in curious surprise. Instead of English villas and cottages there were chalets and Italian-built houses shining white; there were lakes of emerald and sapphire and clustering castles, and such sweeps of hill and mountain, such shining uplands of snow, as she had never seen before. “Ass!” he went on, still warming. They were terrible, horrible people. “There is no doubt whatever about that. So he made his dispositions and went off on some other fool’s errand.
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