There stepped forth a tall brown man. I said, ‘It is no use your telling me about this walk and pretend I’ve been told about the ball, because you haven’t. “I’d chuck this lark right off if I were you, Vee,” he said. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. Had he come to see her to find if she needed something? No. You know the sort of thing. Day after day—five, to be exact—she had returned to Morgan's; and each time the man would understand what had drawn her, and with a kindly smile would sit down at the piano and play.
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