r candour, above all her passivity cut in across his fear. No, not
Gyp!

He went to a little table whereon stood a tantalus, tumblers, and a
syphon, and pouring out some brandy, drank. It steadied him. And he
began to practise. He took a passage from Brahms' violin concerto and
began to play it over and over. Suddenly, he found he was repeating the
same flaws each time; he was not attending. The fingering of that thing
was ghastly! Music-lessons! Why did she take them? Waste of time and
money--she would never be anything but an amateur! Ugh! Unconsciously,
he had stopped playing. Had she gone there to-day? It was past
lunch-time. Perhaps she had come in.

He put down his violin and went back to the house. No sign of her! The
maid came to ask if he would lunch. No! Was the mistress to be in? She
had not said. He went into the dining-room, ate a biscuit, and drank a
brandy and soda. It steadied him. Lighting a cigarette, he came back to
the drawing-room and sat down at Gyp's bureau. How tidy! On the little
calendar, a pencil-cross was set against to-day--Wednesday, another
against Friday. What for? Music-lessons! He reached to a pigeon-hole,
and took out her address-book. "H--Harmost, 305A, Marylebone Road," and
against it the words in pencil, "3 P.M."

Three o'clock. So that was her hour! His eyes rested idly on a little
old coloured print of a Bacchante, with flowing green scarf, shaking a
tambourine at a naked Cupid, who with a baby bow and arrow in his hands,
was gazing up at her. He turned it over; on the back was written in a
pointed, scriggly hand, "To my little friend.--E. H." Fiorsen drew smoke
deep down into his lungs, expelled it slowly, and went to the piano. He
opened it and began to play, staring vacantly before him, the cigarette
burned nearly to his lips. He went on, scarcely knowing what he played.
At last he stopped, and sat dejected. A great artist? Often, nowadays,
he did not care if he never touched a violin again. Tired of standing up
before a sea of dull faces, seeing the blockheads knock their silly hands
one against the other! Sick of the sameness of it all! Besides--besides,
were his powers beginning to fail? What was happening to him of late?

He got up, went into the dining-room, and drank some brandy. Gyp could
not bear his drinking. Well, she shouldn't be out so much--taking
music-lessons. Music-lessons! Nearly three o'clock. If he went for
once an