The music took hold of her slowly as her eyes wandered from the indistinct still ranks of the audience to the little busy orchestra with its quivering violins, its methodical movements of brown and silver instruments, its brightly lit scores and shaded lights. “Great dears!” said Capes, as the vehicle passed out of sight. I can’t imagine Londoners—particularly interested in me. For on reaching the second floor, a swishing sound came to Gerald’s ears, as of someone moving about. Aside from some loose coin and a trunk key, there was nothing in the pockets: no mail, no letter of credit, not even a tailor's label. ’ ‘Then who is this Englishman?’ demanded Gerald on a sceptical note. Her thoughts were deflected from Vivie Warren by the peculiar behavior of a middle-aged gentleman in Piccadilly.
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