“What’s wrong?” He asked as she shifted awkwardly. She had looked up from her seat at the small round table in the centre of the parlour which, together with the wooden armchairs beside the small fireplace, and a sideboard next the single casement, was all the furniture the place afforded. It makes me want to be just everything I CAN be to you. Suddenly all this makes you human. It had felt wonderful to pick up the fiddle again. " "That's what troubles me," rejoined Ben. It was a motor accident—a fatal motor accident the evening papers called it. The shape of the head, the height and breadth of the brow, the angle of the nose, the cut of the chin and jaws, all were fine, of a type she had never before looked upon closely. She addressed Anna with a beaming smile and a very creditable mixture of condescension and officiousness. It would be downright cruel to disillusion her.
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