Their talk drifted to the beauty of music, and they took that up again at tea-time. Why, then, did he touch it? As he climbed heavily into his chair, she was able to note the little beads of sweat under the cracked nether lip. Wood became sensible that he was not alone. “Forgive me,” he decided to say at last, and his voice had a little quiver of emotion, and he laid his hand on hers upon her knee. ‘But of course. She auditioned and got a summer job teaching violin at the Mozart summer music camp for children, catching the luckiest of breaks. I know less about this affair perhaps than you suppose. Anyhow, he did not sentimentalize her. He is in the care of those who will not leave the task assigned to them—the utter perversion of his principles—half-finished. But, perhaps, you'll first accompany me to my dwelling for a moment, that we may arrange our accounts before we start. " "Have you seen him?" asked Trenchard.
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