’ ‘I am afraid that there is,’ Gerald told her evenly. Life is a patchwork of impressions, of vanishing personalities. 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. ‘And that object confirms me in the belief that it is not I who will shortly meet my maker. Aware that he should incur the thief-taker's bitterest animosity by what he had done, the watchman, whose wrath against Quilt Arnold had evaporated during the walk, thought it more prudent not to hazard a meeting with his master, till the storm had, in some measure, blown over. Gerald grinned. Over one of the pinnacles of the tower a speck of pallid light marked the position of the moon, then newly born and newly risen. ” Her reverie broke, and she found herself still in front of the looking glass, a barrette hanging loosely from her hair. But what affair is this of yours?’ But Captain Roding was not attending.
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