The music took hold of her slowly as her eyes wandered from the indistinct still ranks of the audience to the little busy orchestra with its quivering violins, its methodical movements of brown and silver instruments, its brightly lit scores and shaded lights. "How do you know that?" rejoined Jack. "Is it you?" "It is," replied Sheppard, as he untied the cords. She addressed him in a tone of puzzlement. Reconnoitring them through a small grated loophole, he refused to open the door till they had explained their business. “Where?” “To that ball. As she neared the bottom of the dip in Piccadilly she saw a woman approaching her from the opposite direction—a tall woman who at the first glance seemed altogether beautiful and fine.
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