He drew her to him and tipped her chin towards him. Politely Ah Cum stooped and recovered the photograph. " "Peace, fool!" cried Marvel, angrily. “You are very kind,” she said hesitatingly, “but I don’t remember—I don’t think that I know you, do I?” “I am afraid that you do not,” he admitted, with a smile which he meant to be encouraging. She had viewed them askance, and without exchanging ideas with any one else in the world about them. It was astonishing how often this picture returned: cold rosy apples and flurries of snow. 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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