What was it in her heart or mind or soul that went out to this man? Music—was that it? Was he powerless to stir her without the gift? But hadn't he fascinated her by his talk, gentle and winning? Ah, but that had been after he had played for her. ‘I suppose he isn’t this Leonardo you spoke of?’ ‘Certainly he is not Leonardo. “I propose,” Sir John said, “that we pay for our dinner—which we haven’t had— tip the garçon a sovereign, and take a cab to the Ritz. “His dress for no man lays a snare; A man scores always, everywhere. My honor has been in my scientific work and public discussion and the things I write. If I’d meant it, my girl, you’d be dead meat. Only sat, staring at him, a puzzled look in her face.
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