From the further end of the apartment came the low music of a violin. The light!—the light!" Astounded at his cries, Thames sprang towards him. A pretty name for a pretty girl. He seemed to be labouring under some great excitement. . He looked at her with a certain curiosity. She did not have the power of men. And he departed, just as Wood, who had become alarmed by Thames's long absence, made his appearance with a blunderbuss in his hand. “A young man comes into life asking how best he may place himself,” Ramage had said; “a woman comes into life thinking instinctively how best she may give herself. Still—” Then, with incredible and obviously deliberate stupidity, and a voice as flat as her own, he asked, “Who is the man?” Her spirit raged within her at the dumbness, the paralysis that had fallen upon her.
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