" "You're not going to betray me!" cried Jack, in alarm. She saw herself begin a slow, sinuous dance: and stop suddenly in the middle of a figure, conscious that the dance was not impromptu, her own, but native—the same dance she had quitted but a few minutes gone. There she sought and at last found 107A, one of those heterogeneous piles of offices which occupy the eastern side of the lane. Perhaps Gerald was not as clothheaded as he had thought. ’ She bit her lip, frowning. “We are the music and you are the instrument,” she said; “we are verse and you are prose. “You won’t give me away, Anna.
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