Wood was so much exhausted that he was obliged to retire to his own room, where he continued for some hours overpowered by grief. What was it in her heart or mind or soul that went out to this man? Music—was that it? Was he powerless to stir her without the gift? But hadn't he fascinated her by his talk, gentle and winning? Ah, but that had been after he had played for her. I figured it would hurt your feelings if you knew I still talked to him, so I kept my mouth shut. "I've done all I can to the portrait here. ’ ‘On the contrary.
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