there. Anne was so happy.

John Severn came to her.

"Did you ever see anything happier than that absurd boy?" she said. "Why
can't Eliot be jolly and contented, too, like Jerrold?"

"Don't you think the chief reason may be that he _isn't_ Jerrold?"

"Jerrold's adorable. He's never given me a day's trouble since he was
born."

"No. It's other women he'll give trouble to," said John, "before he's
done."


iii

Colin was playing. All afternoon he had been practising with fury; first
scales, then exercises. Then a pause; and now, his fingers slipped into
the first movement of the Waldstein Sonata.

Secretly, mysteriously he began; then broke, sharply, impatiently,
crescendo, as the passion of the music mounted up and up. And now as it
settled into its rhythm his hands ran smoothly and joyously along.

The west window of the drawing-room was open to the terrace. Eliot and
Anne sat out there and listened.

"He's wonderful, isn't he?" she said.