’ She turned quickly away that her feelings might not be obvious to Lucy and her great-aunt. Gay, was a stout, good-looking, good-humoured man, about thirty-six, with a dark complexion, an oval face, fine black eyes, full of fire and sensibility, and twinkling with roguish humour—an expression fully borne out by the mouth, which had a very shrewd and sarcastic curl. 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. “You have been very kind to me,” she said. His spirits began to rise. ‘This is a private house,’ Hilary said severely, ‘and you are trespassing. But machinery will never approach the hand. ” “Try what?” She asked, coolly assessing his lithe hips. ‘Quite wrong, monsieur.
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