He envied her a little. "What ho!" he cried slapping Smith, who had fallen asleep with the brandybottle in his grasp, upon the shoulder. "Good bye, Jack! Keep up your spirits. ” She said to them, raising her head to speak, her voice unsteady. Enter the house with your men. The grate was full of fluttering ashes of burnt paper, and the easy chair near the fire had evidently been used. Charley Pevenill was our host. 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. She stood among them, watching them and feeling curiously alien to them.
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