I wonder why on earth the curtains are drawn. 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. Montague Hill is. Once more he begged; but as Ruth only repeated her sharp command, he spun about and raced toward the jungle. She understood. No sterner head was ever beheld beneath the cowl of a monk, or the bonnet of an inquisitor. Wouldn't it be fun to see his name on a book-cover some day? He'll go strutting up and down without ever dreaming he owed the whole shot to us. But if we had gone under—!” They regarded one another silently, and Ann Veronica had one of her penetrating flashes.
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