‘Quite wrong, monsieur. ’ ‘But what a perfectly famous adventure. "In favour of my son. Her roving eagerness was at all times shaded with shyness, reserve, repression. ‘Must be still downstairs. Trust you. The girl who had just left the room was as great a mystery to him now as on the afternoon when he had met her in Piccadilly and taken her to tea. There was something which chilled even him in the cold impassivity of her features. The music took hold of her slowly as her eyes wandered from the indistinct still ranks of the audience to the little busy orchestra with its quivering violins, its methodical movements of brown and silver instruments, its brightly lit scores and shaded lights.
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