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. Gerald swore. Her tone was icy. It was an impulse. Restraining with an effort his intense curiosity, he talked of general subjects only, trying his best to entertain her. In a tall glass the rind of a Syrian orange was arranged in spiral form. In this state of knowledge you will be horribly, irrevocably, alone. The audience clapped more heartily.
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