After all, what can it matter? It was just to make sure. She wished that the drive would never end, but it was only three miles after all. Sir John stood upon the threshold. He had the same dark eyes, though lighted by a fierce flame; the same sallow complexion; the same tall, thin figure, and majestic demeanour; the same proud cast of features. ‘Your master in?’ he demanded of the astonished footman, removing his cockaded hat and handing it over. A dozen shynesses and intellectual barriers were being outflanked or broken down in her mind. ‘Yes, I thought you’d say that. Madame Valade was looking heartily bored, he noted, as his searching eyes found out the couple. What would happen to her? Would her soul be shaken, twisted, hypnotized?—as it had been those other times? Music—that took out of her the sense of reality, whirled her into the clouds, that gave to her will the directless energy of a chip of wood on stormy waters.
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