"Only the dog," replied the rough tones of a man. “Perhaps,” he queried, “you wish to avoid being seen about with any one—er— connected with the profession, under present circumstances. To-morrow he might be sorry; but to-day, this hour! She rose, not quickly, but with a dignity which only accentuated her beauty. ’ ‘But this is idiot. He had said so. He played for an hour—Grieg, Chopin, Rubenstein, Liszt, crashing music. Like a trollop in heat. ’ ‘Aha, you have found something out. “What do you think of that?” he asked. Anna left the room on tiptoe.
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