" Winifred's eyes filled with tears. \" Lucy replied. She had, it was true, accepted doubtfully the pen he had offered. " "Let me have them. ” She turned and fitted the latchkey into the door. There was a strange quality of steel in this pretty creature. Muffling up his face, Jack turned away; but he had not proceeded many steps when he heard a man reading aloud an account of his escapes from a newspaper. Oh, what’s his name? It’s on the tip of my tongue. 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. Supposing she saw the young man at dinner that night, emptying his bottle? She could not go to him, sit down and draw the sordid pictures she had seen so often. She felt flattered. They crossed the Channel in sunshine and a breeze that just ruffled the sea to glittering scales of silver. Her anger died and she eyed him. These realizations rushed into Ann Veronica’s mind and hardened her heart against him. Lucy's ears were singing.
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