He looked at her with an expression of comical despair. After all, what did it matter?—it or anything else in the world? She was within reach of his arms, beautiful, compelling, herself as it seemed suddenly conscious of the light which was burning in his eyes. He beamed a little as she disappeared into the orchestra room, a cacophony of tuning instruments. A person of somewhat artificial graces and mannerisms, she was for once in her life perfectly natural. John. Look at me, and answer me one question. In another instant, the collision took place. “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. Here he was preparing to leap over the hedge into the fields on the left, when he was intercepted by two horsemen, who, hearing the shouts, rode up and struck at him with the butt-ends of their heavy riding-whips. “Oh, John, please!” “You are already leaving me. Her mouth dry, she made her feet walk on, not daring to utter a word.
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