Sheppard. 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. That world of fine printed cambrics and escorted maidens, of delicate secondary meanings and refined allusiveness, presented itself to her imagination with the brightness of a lost paradise, as indeed for many women it is a lost paradise. There was no need of sowing suspicion when he wasn't really certain there were grounds for it. I have never in my life been so much puzzled by any one as by your sister. "While I live you are safe," rejoined Trenchard; "after my death I can answer for nothing. It was something that would create a mutual claim, a relationship.
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