He drew a little breath of relief. He took her hands firmly in his and raised them to his lips. It’s not you—not a bit. For I still love her mother. But she veiled her feelings. ” “I hope,” he answered, looking at her in some surprise, “that we shall have many more such to think about. In the discussion there was the oddest mixture of things that were personal and petty with an idealist devotion that was fine beyond dispute. He had been for months without music of the character he loved—and he dared not play any of it! McClintock, after the music began, left the piano and sat in a corner just beyond the circle of light cast by the lamp. Again silence.
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