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She gaped at its keep, at least ten feet tall, a frightening gray coffin turned upright. Her white shirt was ridiculously utilitarian, but fitted in all the right places, he smirked. He would condemn her to the vengeance of the mob all for refusing to marry him. “Why waste yourself, John?” 241 < 31 > THE CONCERT Martin Chen showed up early for the pre-concert warm-up at 5:00. John’s father added cheerfully, “So, do you play any violin?” She balked at the stereotype, but admitted, “Yes, I play violin. To many in that crowded solitude it came as an extraordinary relief.
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