"And someday let him care for me!" She sprang up, alarmed. His letter of credit; probably that was it; and, observing the strangeness of the room he was in, his first concern on returning to consciousness would naturally relate to his letter of credit. The old fool’s been working on you through your sister to keep off the stage. ‘I’m only a poor country wench, child. It was my destiny to have her. Still no sound. I overlooked the mechanical imperfections of your work, the utter lack of finish, the crudeness of your drawing. It was a gorgeous May evening, the air redolent with the soapy purple scents of hyacinth and lilac. But send me word. She may be an infuriating little devil, but she is far from stupid. Shrinking involuntarily back into the farthest corner of the seat, Jack buried his face in his hands.
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