Solomon Smith seemed to be Mr. 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. Ramage seemed always fencing about the forbidden topic, probing for openings, and she wondered why she did not give him them. What you would look upon as immorality is here merely an established custom, three thousand years older than Christianity, accepted with no more ado than that which would accompany you should you become a clerk in a shop. His face was white. The man or woman who did something for nothing always excited his suspicions; they were playing some kind of a game. Critically, she stared at her own features. "Yes; he'll suspect nothing. After a little further discourse the old man took his departure. She could not risk going in the door, lest she run into Larry or Cathy drinking a nocturnal glass of milk or Mike raiding the refrigerator for snacks.
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