CHAPTER XI. Too bad he’s not interested in any girl who’s not a musician. Funny codgers, aren't they?" he said. The evenings were dulcet and soft. She loved to be there, taking part in it all, breathing it, being it. . She hastened past. Ramage,” she said, “I can’t—Not now. You are to come home. . . The idea of this sudden reluctance was elusive; the fact was evident but not the reason for it. ’ Emile reached out both hands and grasped her shoulders. They took their places at a distant table. Her personal maidservant, the first she had ever had in her life, was joyful for her.
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