“And all the rest of it perhaps is a song. Smith's melody had subsided. " So Ruth heard about the poets; she became tolerably familiar with the exploits of that engaging ruffian Cellini; she heard of the pathetic deafness of Beethoven; she was thrilled, saddened, exhilarated; and on the evening of the twelfth day she made bold to enter the talk. ‘Because I love you. She stared out of the paned glass window, watching the trees being blown bare by the gale force. ‘Though we might have done, if a certain addlepated clothhead hadn’t let her get away. As a matter of fact it isn’t their affair. ‘Now,’ she said, in an imperious manner that so much reminded him of Melusine that he was obliged to suppress a grin, ‘I can see you properly.
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