She was dressed in a simple evening gown of soft creamy silk, with a yoke of dark old embroidery that enhanced the gentle gravity of her style, and her black hair flowed off her open forehead to pass under the control of a simple ribbon of silver. “We are the music and you are the instrument,” she said; “we are verse and you are prose. This man and he were alike, and about the same age. “Why, it’s David!” he exclaimed. Once she heard him mutter, and she leaned down. “MY DEAR MISS PELLISSIER,— “To-morrow the six months will be up. . And afterwards! Sir John drew his cigar from his lips, and looked upwards where the white-lights flashed strangely amongst the deep cool green of the lime-trees. Accidentally raising his eyes, he saw that he was perceived by the family from Dollis Hill, and that he was an object of the deepest interest to them.
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