She turned about, and was persecuted by visions, half memories, half dreams, of Ramage. She put a stool for him at a little distance from her own, and after he had seen the day’s work he hesitated, and then plunged into a resumption of their discussion about beauty. ‘Might have forgiven him,’ he muttered under his breath, ‘if he hadn’t taken the babe. ‘But how do you come here?’ ‘Down on a routine patrol, unluckily for you,’ he answered grimly. This is the first act. What would happen to her? Would her soul be shaken, twisted, hypnotized?—as it had been those other times? Music—that took out of her the sense of reality, whirled her into the clouds, that gave to her will the directless energy of a chip of wood on stormy waters. Degree! degree! She smiled on a gallant of high degree. Doctor says depositions to-night. ’ ‘Mercy me,’ gasped the nun.
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