"I must have told you about her. She was such a lovely girl, one of our second violins.... Nancibel, you never pay any attention when I tell you things; I think it's mean of you.... O, it's too dreadful and I'm just miserable about it.... Look, dear, won't you walk a little up Huntington Avenue? I was just going to get a soda ... so soothing, you know, dear, and I know the nicest candy store just a block up." As they followed the path towards the Unitarian Church between grass patches dappled with russet of leaves, Nan could feel the eyes of the men on the benches, eyes indolent after a bloating Sunday breakfast, dazzled by following the smudgy sharpscented columns of Sunday newspapers, eyes blurred by Saturday night parties; their glances seemed to weave a warm shameful net to catch her wellpoised ankles and the erect slenderness of her figure in its closely tailored tweed. Fitzie was still talking. "But, you must have seen her, dear, the last time you went to hear us play.... You did go, didn't you, that time I sent you the ticket? You said you'd been.... She was to the left beside the stage, just beside the first violin, a lovely girl with black curly hair." At the corner they threaded their way among groups of heavyjowled people coming out of the church, men bristling with decorous stiffness, white points of starched collars, prickly scarfpins in satin of neckties, black curves of hats and gleaming shoetips, women fuzzy with boas and bits of fur and spotted veils. "I had always thought," went on Fitzie's voice in a whine of dismay, "that she had a great future, and she seemed so much the best educated and ... you know ... most refined person there." "But, what's happened to her?" "I must begin at the beginning.... You see, dear, it was this way.... O, this is it. What will you have, dear?" A smell of sodawater and chocolate and polished nickel encompassed them about. They sat at a little white table on which was a lace doily covered by a round piece of plate glass. A waitress in black with tight starched bands at the wrists and waist hung over them. "What are you having, dear?" said Fitzie again. "I'm goin' to have a banana split. I just love banana splits. Isn't it greedy of me? And before lunch, too." "D'you know if you don't mind, Fitzie, I won't take anything. I'm going to dine with Aunt M. and she always feeds one a dreadful lot of stuffing on Sundays. She has such old-fashioned ideas about food." "Well, as I was telling you, Nancibel, the first time I guessed anything was wrong was about a month ago, when I noticed a young Italian waiting outside the stage door. I was in a hurry and didn't notice him until I'd brushed against him. He was very poorly dressed and smelt dreadfully of garlic but I had to admit to myself that he was goodlooking, like a young Greek god!" "Young Greek gods probably smelt of garlic too," said Nan laughing.