Daily contact with actual human beings all the more inclined her toward the imaginative. . 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. ‘But do you think I can blame you for this, Marthe?’ ‘I blame myself. Thames, meanwhile, had drawn his sword, and was about to rush upon Jonathan; but he was withheld by Wood. Day after day—five, to be exact—she had returned to Morgan's; and each time the man would understand what had drawn her, and with a kindly smile would sit down at the piano and play.
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