" "Most likely," observed Jonathan, with a slight sneer; "the ghost of some highwayman who has just breathed his last in Newgate, no doubt. “My God!” he said again. A crisis had been reached, and she was almost glad it had been reached. Wood will be here presently. I give myself to you. Manning called. The music took hold of her slowly as her eyes wandered from the indistinct still ranks of the audience to the little busy orchestra with its quivering violins, its methodical movements of brown and silver instruments, its brightly lit scores and shaded lights. ’ She spoke with difficulty, holding down the rising emotion that threatened to overwhelm her.
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