had not touched a piano for many weeks, consequently her fingers
were stiff and awkward; but in a few minutes they got back something
of their old proficiency: almost unconsciously, she strayed into an
Andante of Chopin's.

The strange, appealing, almost unearthly beauty of the movement
soothed her jangled nerves; before she was aware of it, she was
enrapt with the morbid majesty of the music. Although she was dimly
conscious that someone had come into the room, she went on playing.

The next definite thing that she knew was that two strong arms were
placed about her body, that she was being kissed hotly and
passionately upon eyes and lips.

"You darling; you darling; you perfect darling!" cried a voice.

Mavis was too overcome by the suddenness of the assault to know what
to be at; her first instinct was to deliver herself from the
defiling touch of her assailant. She freed herself with an effort,
to see that it was Mr Williams who had so grossly insulted her.
Blind rage, shame, outraged pride all struggled for expression;
blind rage predominated.

"Oh, you beast!" she cried.

"Eh!"

"You beast! You beast! To do a thing like that!" Then, as she became
on better terms with the nature of the vulgar insult to which she
had been subjected, her anger blazed out.