” She wondered how much history she could reinvent before losing track of her own lies. ’” She played “If I Were a Rich Man,” adding syrupy trills and flourishes at every phrase. Was she so fearful still? Roding shrugged and grimaced. The girl stood with her hands behind her back, sulky, resolute, and intelligent, a strand of her black hair over one eye and looking more than usually delicate-featured, and more than ever like an obdurate child. He left his companion in the midst of a glowing eulogy of Bastien Leparge, and boldly intercepted his hostess as she moved from one group to join another. "And now," cried Jack, leaping up, "for an achievement, compared with which all I have yet done shall be as nothing!" CHAPTER XVII.
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