What was it in her heart or mind or soul that went out to this man? Music—was that it? Was he powerless to stir her without the gift? But hadn't he fascinated her by his talk, gentle and winning? Ah, but that had been after he had played for her. She drifted, via Theobald’s Road, obliquely toward the region about Titchfield Street. You act your part capitally, but it won't do. She felt he was going to say something more—something still more personal and intimate. This smile was more harrowing even than her former rigid look. A deep roar followed this order, and several missiles were launched at the vehicle, which was driven off at a furious pace. . "Enough," said the widow, gratefully. The aunt laughed. The features were indistinct, but was that not a halo of white about it? And the dark shadow below, was that a cloak, or the habit of a nun? Skirting the dancing, from which he had taken a breather—not from lack of energy, but to escape the inanities of the young ladies he had partnered—Gerald made his way to a side door in the saloon and opened it.
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