But that other world, in spite of her resolute exclusion of it, was always looking round corners and peeping through chinks and crannies, and rustling and raiding into the order in which she chose to live, shining out of pictures at her, echoing in lyrics and music; it invaded her dreams, it wrote up broken and enigmatical sentences upon the passage walls of her mind. But you——” Something seemed to catch his breath. 13 with a latchkey went humming lightly up to her room. Lucy aimed the firearm at Rhea’s chest. 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 was posing before the mirror, critically, miserably, defensively, and perhaps bewilderedly. Ann Veronica was apologetic to the bottom of her soul.
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