" "Wait a bit, massa," replied the grinning negro,—"lilly bit—see all right fust. He was twenty-nine at the time, practically an old man. She hesitated in answering the door, her violin still crooked underneath her chin. It would surely be only common politeness to drop her a hint—a fellow countrywoman too. ” Her reverie broke, and she found herself still in front of the looking glass, a barrette hanging loosely from her hair. She was aware of the body of the court, of clerks seated at a black table littered with papers, of policemen standing about stiffly with expressions of conscious integrity, and a murmuring background of the heads and shoulders of spectators close behind her.
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