” Ennison dropped the evening paper which he had been pretending to read. I worship you. There was a mad musician, seemingly rapt in admiration of the notes he was extracting from a child's violin. It now came to him with an added thrill how well she had told her story; simply and directly, no skipping, no wandering hither and yon: from the first hour she could remember, to the night she had fled in the proa, a clear sustained narrative. “You might at least,” she murmured, “have invented a more romantic reason. Chairs were overturned. But Gerald took it for the routine interest in an eligible bachelor, although he was aware many females had an eye for scarlet regimentals. The child has sprung into a youth; the youth has become a man; the man has already begun to feel the advances of age.
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