But he was destined to have every tide of feeling awakened—every wound opened. A little kindness would not bring the world tumbling about her ears. " "Wait a bit, massa," replied the grinning negro,—"lilly bit—see all right fust. He never seemed to take full advantage while they were in his mammoth automobile. 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. "For what?" "I had the paper with me. She threw out a hand to stop herself from cannoning into them and, losing balance, tripped over her own petticoats and fell to the carpeted floor, her hat falling off as she did so. At present the world waits for that writer, and the confused record of the newspapers remains the only resource of the curious.
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