"It's better," observed Sheppard, meaningly. “Lucy, you have to play for us after dinner, oh please. You feel that that smile is for you, the words are for you, the whole song is for you. Running to Gosse, she seized the portrait from his hand and lashed out, taking him off guard, so that he staggered back and fell against the card table. There were dark rims under her eyes, soft now with unshed tears. “Great dears!” said Capes, as the vehicle passed out of sight. She pointed suddenly at the portrait. In the bad light he looked at once military and sentimental and studious, like one of Ouida’s guardsmen revised by Mr. Passing thought. “Dear John,” she whispered.
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