I tried. "I have been very unhappy. "As it's getting late, and the porter may be gone to bed," he observed; "I'll take the pass-key, and let myself in. But for a long time, anyhow, we lovers have to be as if we were no more than friends. Books; an inexplicable hunger to be satisfied. " "I'll ring for one," replied Kneebone, rising accordingly; "but I fear my servants are gone to bed. I went to her rooms to-night. Habits and tastes are no longer the same. 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.
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