" "That's well!" cried Jack. “My dear,” she said, when she could get her breath, “you must come home at once. He was sitting back from the table now, with one arm over the back of his green chair and the other resting on the little table. 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. I spent my fair share of time in the closet. She pulled him down by his lapels and arched her head readily towards his neck. Immediately the "boy" went forth with his paper lantern, repeating a cry as he ran—warning to clear the way. Tell me about your island. That was life. It did not occur to her that save for some accidents of education and character they had souls like her own.
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