The tears were welling over now, but her voice was steady. Martin came to the stage from his section, his own violin in hand. ’ ‘You always were an old sobersides, even as a boy,’ retorted the major, who was close on thirty now, yet as ripe for excitement as he had been on receiving his first commission at sixteen. Wood then led the way up a rather high and, according to modern notions, incommodious flight of steps, and introduced his guest to a neat parlour, the windows of which were darkened by pots of flowers and creepers. In this hour its colossal selfishness never occurred to him. She felt sticky and ashamed when he dropped her off a block away from the McCloskey house as she had requested.
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