Part 4 After a day or so she thought more steadily. She had lost her sense of direction, and was among unfamiliar streets. “You know,” he muttered, “you know quite well that your troubles are far more likely to weigh upon me than my own. Shortly a man descended laboriously. Fear nothing. " Her son complied, and sat down upon the patch-work coverlet beside her. Her thoughts were deflected from Vivie Warren by the peculiar behavior of a middle-aged gentleman in Piccadilly. Good and Evil. Out of these he selected a faded parchment and restored the rest to safety. “I think, aunt,” she said, “you might trust to my self-respect to keep me out of that. 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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