“This is MY thing,” said Ann Veronica, softly, with thoughtful eyes upon him. Sheppard, with an agonized look at Wood. Mr. In the middle there was a gate. “A serious question. If I could but——” To escape from her thoughts she began to undress, humming a light tune to herself, though her eyes were hot with unshed tears, and the sobs kept rising in her throat. “I don’t know much about the technique of music,” he said at last, with his eyes upon her. It was nearly one o’clock; but there were lights still in all her windows.
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