A long shrill cat-call in the gallery seemed to be the signal. CHAPTER THE THIRD THE MORNING OF THE CRISIS Part 1 Two days after came the day of the Crisis, the day of the Fadden Dance. Perhaps that sealed letter was a form of confession, and thus relieved him on that score. He saw three people: a young man at the piano, an elderly man smoking in a corner, and a young woman reclining in a chair, her eyes closed. “Are you aware, Ann Veronica, you nearly throttled that gentleman?” Then she reviled her own foolish way of putting it. “I have hurt my father,” she said; “I have hurt my aunt.
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