"He stands before you," rejoined her son. I do not know. Annabel half filled her glass with wine, and taking a little folded packet from her plate, shook the contents into it. " "Perhaps that was it. He heard the door close; and in a little while he fell into a doze; and there came a dream filled with broken pictures, each one of which the girl dominated. Art was everywhere, underfoot in the form of mosaics, overhead in the form of architecture. These were so outside her experience that she found it possible to thrust them almost out of sight by saying they would be “all right” in confident tones to herself. 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.
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