” Chapter XIX “THIS IS NOT THE END” “I said some afternoon,” she remarked, throwing open her warm coat, and taking off her gloves, “but I certainly did not mean to-day. Ben had scarcely adjusted his oars, when the gleam of a lantern was seen moving towards the bank. There was a mad musician, seemingly rapt in admiration of the notes he was extracting from a child's violin. And through it all, like a golden thread on a piece of tapestry, weaving in and out of the patterns, the unspoken longing for love. That blow made me a thief. Don't be afraid—I won't hurt you.
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