“Mind my smoking?” said Roddy. The wind blew in fitful gusts, and scattered the yellow leaves from the elms and horse-chestnuts. He did not spend more time with her. Again he played for her; and again the eruption of the strange senses that lay hidden in her soul. The bolder members in the House left their places to go lobbyward, grinning. Grudgingly he admired her. Her cheeks burned for a moment or two when she reached the street, although she held her head upright and walked blithely, even humming to herself fragments of an old French song. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1. “It was a phase,” she said.
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