The Death of the Heart - Elizabeth Bowen [156]
clouds the sky was warm, the buildings seemed to expand. The fingers on the piano halted, struck true notes, found their way to a chord.
Through the glass door, Matchett saw lights, chairs, pillars—but there was no buttons, no one. She thought:
"Well, what a place!" Ignoring the bell, because this place was public, she pushed on the brass knob with an air of authority.