For all that, it is folly. It reminded her of one of the old tales her mother Marina had told her about a sculptor named Farhat. But Gerald kept to a casual note. ” She played with her hair. Yet she never once thought of changing it. "Our talking will not bother him. " "Piano-player? Do you mean someone who plays for you?" "No, no; one of those mechanical things you play with your feet. I suppose I was a little idiotic—I don’t think we either of us mentioned the future, but it was arranged that I should go the next afternoon and have tea with her. Only I wish—I wish to-day I was a thousand times, ten thousand times more beautiful. ” He smiled, and she felt love for him in that moment as the smile lit up his ebony eyes, eyes whose blackness seemed unfathomable.
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