"She may yet be saved. “We are the music and you are the instrument,” she said; “we are verse and you are prose. There are so many things I want to tell you, and they stand on such different levels, that the effect is necessarily confusing and discordant, and I find myself doubting if I am really giving you the thread of emotion that should run through all this letter. He removed his cockaded hat, putting it down between them as he sat at the other end, placing himself at an angle and, crossing his legs, leaned back at his ease, his eyes fixed on her face. She struggled not to be afraid. ’ ‘Not if you want one of good family, no,’ he agreed mildly. . As she stared her eyes grew accustomed to the night; and she discovered five persons instead of four. ” “It certainly was,” she admitted.
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