But that possibility had been anticipated. Prior to the great adventure, her mirrors had been the still pools in the rocks after the ebb. ‘As to Gérard, I do not know why he does this. Leonardo he was my—’ ‘Don’t say it,’ Gerald cut in hoarsely. . ’ ‘And you believe her?’ asked Lucilla, raising her brows. She was in a very uncritical state that afternoon. Then Mr. Unwillingly he drew a little nearer, and became one of the group of loiterers about the entrance. Fas du tout. 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.
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