“She, that creature, will be your ruin!” Augusta said and pointed her finger derisively. “You’ll never become Senator tied to her! You’ll never be anything! You’re finished!”
“Augusta,” Tabor spoke with sorrowful dignity. “I have made you rich. I’ve given you mines. You want more money, very well! Only I will have Baby Doe....” And he clasped the silent clinging figure closer to him.
Augusta rose to her full height, like an angry prophetess of old. “She’s after your money, your fortune. And when that is gone, she’ll leave you! Some day when you are ragged and poverty-stricken, you will wake up. Wake up!”
Judy felt someone shaking her arm. “Wake up!” the voice repeated. She opened her eyes with difficulty. A boy was bending over her.
“The rehearsal’s over. The quartet will be leaving in a few minutes and lock up.”
Judy looked at him, her mind still hovering between the past and the present. “Who are you?” she asked.
“My name’s Karl. I’m a violin student. I’ve been listening to the rehearsal. Please come along. I don’t want to get locked in here.”
“I just closed my eyes for a minute,” Judy said as she followed him down the balcony steps.
“It was a long minute, closer to thirty,” he laughed. “I saw—or rather heard you—as you lowered that seat—sort of crash landing.”