arwitz. She came swiftly to
them, her loose lace sleeves flowing back from her bare arms. "I do not
like my piano touched, you know, Karen, unless permission is given. No
matter, no matter, my child. Let it not occur again, that is all. You
have not found the right balance of that phrase," she stooped and
reiterated with emphasis a fragment of the prelude. "And now I will
begin my work, if you please. Tallie waits for you, I think, in the
garden, and would be glad of your help. Tallie grows old. It does not do
to forget her."

"Am I to go into the garden, too?" Mr. Drew inquired, as Madame von
Marwitz seated herself and ran her fingers over the keys. "I thought we
were to motor this morning."

"We will motor when I have done my work. Go into the garden, by all
means, if you wish to."

"May I come into the garden with you? May I help you there?" Mr. Drew
serenely drawled, addressing Karen, who, with a curious, concentrated
look, stood gazing at her guardian.

She turned her eyes on him and her glance put him far, far away, like an
object scarcely perceived. "I am not going into the garden," she said.
"Mrs. Talcott is working in the morning-room and does not need me yet."

"Ah. She is in the morning-room," Madame von Marwitz murmured, still not
raising her eyes, and still running loud and soft scales up and down.
Karen left the room.

As the door closed upon her, Madame von Marwitz, with a singular effect
of control, began to weave a spider's-web of intricate, nearly
impalpable, sound. "Go, if you please," she said to Mr. Drew.

He stood beside her, placid. "Why are you angry?" he asked.

"I am not pleased that my rules should be broken. Karen has many
privileges. She must learn not to take, always, the extra inch when the
ell is so gladly granted."

He leaned on the piano. Her controlled face, bent with absorption above
the lacey pattern of sound that she evoked, interested him.

"When you are angry and harness your anger to your art like this, you
become singularly beautiful," he remarked. He felt it; and, after all,
if he were to remain at Les Solitudes and attempt to scale those Alpine
slopes he must keep on good terms with Madame von Marwitz.

"So," was her only reply. Yet her eyes softened.

He raised the lace wing of her sleeve and kissed it, keeping it in his
hand.

"No foolishness if you please," said Madame von Marwitz. "Of what have
you and Karen been talking?"

"I can't get her to talk," said