"
Just fifty words. His thrifty German training.
"No!" cried Fanny, aloud. "No! No!" And the cry quavered
and died away, and another took its place. and it, too,
gave way to another, so that she was moaning as she stood
there with the telegram in her shaking hand. She read it
again, her lips moving, as old people sometimes
read. Then she began to whimper, with her closed fist over
her mouth, her whole body shaking. All her fine courage
gone now; all her rigid self-discipline; all her iron
determination. She was not a tearful woman. And she had
wept much on the train. So the thing that wrenched and
shook her now was all the more horrible because of its
soundlessness. She walked up and down the room, pushing her
hair back from her forehead with the flat of her hand. From
time to time she smoothed out the crumpled yellow slip of
paper and read it again. Her mind, if you could have seen
into it, would have presented a confused and motley picture.
Something like this: But his concert engagements? . . .
That was what had happened to Bauer.
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