" CHAPTER IX. The aspect of the place, so far as he could discern through the gloom, was strange to him; but chancing to raise his eyes above the level of the surrounding habitations, he beheld, relieved against the sombre sky, the tall steeple of Saint Giles's church, the precursor of the present structure, which was not erected till some fifteen years later. Besides this, the door was crossed and recrossed by iron bars, clenched by broad-headed nails. His hair is oddly streaked with gray —I might say a dishonourable gray. He played for an hour—Grieg, Chopin, Rubenstein, Liszt, crashing music. . I have always had a secret crush on him, to be honest with you. They might applaud, or object, or interfere, but the drama was her very own. "Auntie?" he cried.
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