“Well?” she said. You cannot care for her. . Gerald studied the darkness beyond the aperture. Ireton will do no such thing," replied the head-turnkey. 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. "Mother! dear mother!" cried Jack, folding her to his breast. "Why do you laugh?" she asked gravely. Wrenching his hands from her shoulders, she thrust them away and leapt up from the chair.
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