She had thought to wear it now, since she must look more the demoiselle. She had slept badly at first in a long chair next to the fire waiting for him to return, but caught on after that. 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. And one must—some of it must slip through one’s fingers. It fell to the ground and smoked ominously. ” “How old-fashioned of you, Lucy. She hated to leave; for this hour would be the most interesting.
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