It was a gorgeous May evening, the air redolent with the soapy purple scents of hyacinth and lilac. He was yellow and coarse of hair; flea-bitten, too; and even as he smiled at Ruth and wagged his stumpy tail, he was forced to turn savagely upon one of these disturbers who had no sense of the fitness of things. His hands reached under her skirt. ’ He bowed slightly, and indicated the house behind them with a wave of his hand. 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. “Vee!” said Miss Stanley, “you hear what your father says!” Miss Stanley struggled with emotion. Now if she sent fifteen pounds the suggestion that she had spent a five-pound note in the meanwhile would be irresistible. His instinct was in the direction of considering his daughters his absolute property, bound to obey him, his to give away or his to keep to be a comfort in his declining years just as he thought fit. Have you been away from Morningside Park?” “I’m not interrupting you?” “You are. ‘It is seldom enough I am visited by anyone at all, let alone a personable young redcoat.
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