[Poggio]

It took two more days before the charade of Galvin Pyce was back in its place and even then it as thin as a sheet of paper. His brother had little doubt from the condition of his body that he was doing nothing but hunting. His dog however had become hard to win over. He could smell the slight changes. The hesitant confusion returned to its natural loyalty in no time. It had been closed down during the week of his absence and remodeled. It oozed images of that man at every turn. By Saturday he had lost himself in his new management duties and catty internal politics of the dancers. So many had tried to gain his eye for favor over the others. It kept his mind occupied until he was walking the familiar gravel of the park. It was Saturday.