When next he asked for her, some twelve hours later, he was told that Mademoiselle had left. It was a moment or two before Gerald realised that he could feel the fluttering of her pulse beneath the light touch he had on her wrist, and that her fingers were trembling in his. You get this queer irascible musician quite impossibly and unfortunately in love with a wealthy patroness, and then out of his brain comes THIS, a tapestry of glorious music, setting out love to lovers, lovers who love in spite of all that is wise and respectable and right. It would be downright cruel to disillusion her. The girl was pretty, and apparently a lady. He threw up his hand, reeled for a moment on his feet, and collapsed upon the floor. “Yes, aren’t they?” said Ann Veronica, after a thoughtful pause.
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