‘Thank you,’ she said, leaning heavily on his arm for a moment. Jack Kimble stiffened, looking at his interrogator with wary anger in his face. "You've but a sorry lodging, Mrs. Listening on the dimlit landing, he saw Roding’s face muscles tighten. Eggs were procured for her, and she sat out the subsequent emotions and eloquence with the dignity becoming an injured lady of good family. The music took hold of her slowly as her eyes wandered from the indistinct still ranks of the audience to the little busy orchestra with its quivering violins, its methodical movements of brown and silver instruments, its brightly lit scores and shaded lights.
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