‘Nothing would do for her but to come here,’ grumbled Hilary, wiping his heated brow with a pocket handkerchief dragged from his immaculate white uniform breeches. "I've been wondering, until this morning, if you were real. How long have you been playing?” Lucy breathed an internal sigh of relief. "I have nearly done," replied the stranger. The girl was pretty, and apparently a lady. She reminded him sometimes of the one holy and ineffable Madonna, at others of Berode, the great courtezan of her day, who had sent kings away from her doors, and had just announced her intention of ending her life in a convent. Apparently he had projected beyond his table some hypnotic thought, for it had held him all through the dining hour. 5.
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