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. . Never again to be alone! To fit herself into this man's life as a hand into a glove; to use all her skill to force him into the position of depending upon her utterly; to be the spark to the divine fire! He should have his book, even if it had to be written with her heart's blood. “What night will you dine and go to the theatre with me?—and how about Hurlingham on Saturday?” Anna shook her head. “But I am sorry,” she exclaimed. Then we can loiter and gossip to our heart’s content. But the five per cent.
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