Ann Veronica forgot him as soon as she was through the gate, and her face resumed its expression of stern preoccupation. I’ve just finished my first symphony!” He said proudly. But, what is it! What did you promise?" "To offer you my heart, my hand, my life," replied Kneebone, falling at her feet. He declined supper, but took wine. She realized dimly that there was no personal thing behind his cry, that countless myriads of Mannings had “My God!”-ed with an equal gusto at situations as flatly apprehended. 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. \" She knew he was blushing in the dark.
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