Their talk drifted to the beauty of music, and they took that up again at tea-time. He was keen to get to work, but the inspiration would not come. . I know nothing about the girl, save what you have told me. ‘Come inside at once, child. The little grating in the door, the sense of constant inspection, worried her. "My own father!" Queerly the room and its objects receded and vanished; and there intervened a series of mental pictures that so long as she lived would ever be recurring. No girl with a face like that…. ’ He sat looking her over in silence for a moment or two, his thoughts revolving around the name and the way it fitted so exquisitely on quite another set of features.
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