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. He was tall and straight, and his expression was good. As for this infatuation—it’s like some obsession, some magic thing laid upon you. ‘Laisse-moi,’ she threw at him, her brief attack of sobs already ended, although the trace of tears on her cheeks bore witness to its sincerity. ’ ‘Well, but he was a deserter, you see. . . " He offered cigars, and Ruth got up.
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