"With me?" said Thames. "It was that song that put it into my head to cut my name on the beam. There was little more here than a sideboard, a chest for the vestments, and a simple wooden chair. Brown engaged in the usual browbeating and complaining he reserved for sections who came in late and soloists who left tempo behind like the leftovers of a Sunday picnic. She lingered over donning her winter coat, buttoning each toggle and placket, double knotting her long scarf. Her eyes were soft and grave, and there was the faintest of smiles upon her resolute lips. No, don’t interrupt me.
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