" As Ben spoke, they drew near the opposing parties. It was Martin, she could hear his heart beat. Folks don’t like ’em. Sure Mike!" At the hotel he wrote a long letter to his chief, explaining every detail of the fizzle. 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. ” “It was Cheveney!” he said slowly. It resembled Mardi Gras, and she thought disdainfully of New Orleans.
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