hese occasions. She had mentioned
the large-mouthed children at Wimbledon--facts that he preferred to
forget as much as possible--and he did not know that he forgave her.
There was a tranquil malice in realizing that as Madame von Marwitz
became more and more displeasing to him, Mrs. Jardine, more and more,
became pleasing. A new savour had come into his life since her
appearance and he had determined to postpone a final rupture with his
great friend and remain on for some time longer at Les Solitudes. He
wondered if it would be possible to awaken Mrs. Jardine.

"Haven't I heard you practising, once or twice lately?" he asked her
now, as they turned at the end of the terrace and walked back.

"Yes," said Karen; "I practise every morning."

"I'd no idea you played, too."

"It is hardly a case of 'too', is it," Karen said, mildly amused.

"I don't know. Perhaps it is. One may look at a Memling after a Michael
Angelo, you know. I wish you'd play to me."

"I am no Memling, I assure you."

"You can't, until I hear you. Do play to me. Brahms; a little Brahms."

"I have practised no Brahms for a long time. I find him too difficult."

"I heard you doing a Bach prelude yesterday; play that."

"Certainly, if you wish it, I will play it to you," said Karen, "though
I do not think that you will much enjoy it."

Mrs. Talcott was in the morning-room over accounts; so Karen went with
the young man into the music-room and opened the grand piano there.

She then played her prelude, delicately, carefully, composedly. She knew
Mr. Drew to be musicianly; she did not mind playing to him.

More and more, Mr. Drew reflected, looking down at her, she reminded him
of flower-brimmed, inaccessible mountain-slopes. He must discover some
method of ascent; for the music brought her no nearer; he was aware,
indeed, that it removed her. She quite forgot him as she played.

The last bars had been reached when the door opened suddenly and Madame
von Marwitz appeared.

She had come in haste--that was evident--and a mingled fatigue and
excitement was on her face. Her white cheeks had soft, sodden
depressions and under her eyes were little pinches in the skin, as
though hot fingers had nipped her there. She looked almost old, and she
smiled a determined, adjusted smile, with heavy eyes. "_Tiens, tiens_,"
she said, and, turning elaborately, she shut the door.

Karen finished her bars and rose.

"This is a new departure," said Madame von M