"What has caused this quarrel, Thames?" asked the little girl, anxiously. Not up here, I think. . They sat in the windowed booth at the restaurant across from each other. The overnight nervous strain began to tell; she became inattentive to the work before her, and it did not get on. Her unnatural calm was giving way. " "Hold your tongue, hussy!" cried her husband gruffly. She never grew angry for anything her husband did: such anger as came to her was directed against the lazy, incompetent servant who was always snooping about in the inner temple—Spurlock's study. 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.
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