Day after day—five, to be exact—she had returned to Morgan's; and each time the man would understand what had drawn her, and with a kindly smile would sit down at the piano and play. That is why I am here. “Have some more port wine, sir?” “It’s a very sound wine,” said Mr. Sheppard, passing her hands over his face, and gazing at him with a look that made him shudder. I said I knew he disliked and distrusted you and your work—that you shared all Russell’s opinions: he hates Russell beyond measure—and that we couldn’t possibly face a conventional marriage. Until Leonardo. “Well?” she said, sitting down again. A smile flickered upon her lips as she glanced towards Brendon, who was very serious indeed. .
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