are not tuned
together we make a dreadful hash of things."

He might have added: "At such times I drag her about by the hair and
beat her." But he didn't. He looked instead the picture of a very
patient man who makes the best of things.

"Whatever you do at times," said Barbara gently, "you have done wonders
to-night. But you know better than we do how good your playing is. So
what is the use of praising it--to you?"

She felt that he was her own private discovery--almost her property. And
knowing that her friends were still profoundly affected by his playing,
she was filled with honest pride. Her eyes flashed, her cheeks glowed.

"What did I tell you?" she exclaimed. "Was I right? Didn't I promise
that he would make good? Did he?"

She was delighted with Blizzard, delighted with herself, delighted with
the whole party. She had forgotten the madman face that he had showed.
She forgot that he was a cripple, a thing soured and wicked. She thought
of him only as a great genius, which she herself had discovered.

The childlike pleasure which she felt communicated itself to the
others, and Blizzard, escaping an ovation of honest praise, led them
into the next room, where, among palms and roses, such a supper was
spread as gamblers, the big men of the profession, spread for
their victims.

The mere sight of the champagne-glasses loosened the men's tongues. Talk
flowed. Mrs. Bruce and Barbara, seated right and left of their host,
made much of his music and his hospitality. For once in his life he was
genuinely happy. He looked very handsome, very high-minded, very modest,
a man's man. Sitting, he was much taller than the others. You forgot
that, standing, he was but a dwarf. He towered at the head of his table,
his mind working in swift, good-natured, hospitable flashes. It was
obvious that he had been born a gentleman, and that he had never
"forgotten how." It was obvious, too, that he was a man of power and
position, who when he wished could spend money like a great lord, and
who was accustomed to give orders.

In his manner to Barbara there was (perhaps noticeable only to herself)
an air of long-proved friendship and a kind of guardianly tenderness,
and he managed somehow to convey to her that she had an immense
influence over him; that he looked to her for help--for inspiration.

The desire to make a great man of him invaded her mind. Her heart warmed
toward him.

"I wonder," said Bruce suddenly, "where our wa