” She threw away the end of her cigarette. “Yes. She breathed deeply. “Ruin me? For what? Posterity? How could you ruin me, Lucy? What on earth are you talking about?” He got up and began to pace the room. Then Gosse spoke again, answering the question in her mind. During the previous night he had been restless; and in the lonely dragging hours his thoughts had raced in an endless circle—action without progress. No blowzy barmaids for him to-day: an American bar-keep to whom he could tell his troubles and receive the proper meed of sympathy. I can't concentrate on my work. The door to the library burst open. Lucy loved orchestras, the bittersweet tinge of rosin dust that hung in the air, the way that the sun shone through filthy windows illuminating the marimbas with a storybook light. " "How long will you be here?" "To-morrow night.
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