ad no power to move her, he took to
kissing her hands. She left them limply in his; she did not resist him.
From this, he drew courage: he began to treat her more inconsiderately,
compelling her to bend down to him, making her feel his strength; and
he did not cease his efforts till her head had sunk forward, heavy and
submissive, on his shoulder.

They were at peace again: and the joys of reconciliation seemed almost
worth the price they had paid for them.

V.

The following morning, having drunk his coffee, Maurice pushed back the
metal tray on which the delf-ware stood, and remained sitting idle with
his hands before him. It was nine o'clock, and the houses across the
road were beginning to catch stray sunbeams. By this time, his daily
work was as a rule in full swing; but to-day he was in no hurry to
commence. He was even more certain now than he had been on the night
before, of his lack of success; and the idea of starting anew on the
dull round filled him with distaste. He had been so confident that his
playing would, in some way or other, mark a turning-point in his
musical career; and lo! it had gone off with as little fizz and effect
as a damp rocket. Lighting a cigarette, he indulged in ironical
reflections. But, none the less, he heard the minutes ticking past, and
as he was not only a creature of habit, but had also a troublesome
northern conscience, he rose before the cigarette had formed its second
spike of ash, and went to the piano: no matter how rebellious he felt,
this was the only occupation open to him; and so he set staunchly out
on the unlovely mechanical exercising, which no pianist can escape.
Meanwhile, he recapitulated the scene in the concert hall, from the few
anticipatory moments, when the 'cellist related amatory adventures, to
the abrupt leave he had taken of Dove at the door of the building. And
in the course of doing this, he was invaded by a mild and agreeable
doubt. On such shadowy impressions as these had he built up his
assumption of failure! Was it possible to be so positive? The unreal
state of mind in which he had played, hindered him from acting as his
own judge. The fact that Schwarz had not been effusive, and that none
of his friends had sought him out, admitted of more than one
interpretation. The only real proof he had was Dove's manner to him;
and was not Dove always too full of his own affairs, or, at least, the
affairs of those who were not present at the moment