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. “What I am after is that beauty isn’t a special inserted sort of thing; that’s my idea. Wood. He did not pocket it, but sat hefting it lightly from hand to hand, watching the girl thoughtfully. John’s father brought down a violin from a high closet shelf. You have been useful to me, or I would not have spared you thus long. He was conscious of a peculiar pleasure in sitting there and thinking of those few hours which already were becoming to assume a definite importance in his mind—a place curiously apart from those dry-as-dust images which had become the gods of his prosaic life. . The boy was right. Easily.

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