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. “But we only aid the beccamorti by giving them our business! I refuse to pay exorbitant prices for wood coffins and burial for lesser servants who could just as easily be dragged into the pit! Let the dead bury the dead!” “You fool! It is the gross lack of sanitation you speak of that has brought us to this very end. I am not prying for my own amusement. ‘What is this fate?’ ‘Un mariage of no distinction. ‘Dare I suppose that to be of her making?’ Gerald flushed. This was followed by heavy footsteps, and in another moment the dining-room door was flung open. They WERE, she realized, acutely beautiful things. Her aunt was a long time before she answered. She was perhaps as near tears as ever before in her life. " "Gem'men o' the votch!" cried Sharples, as loudly as a wheezy cough would permit him, "my noble pris'ner—ough! ough;—the Markis o' Slaughterford ——" Further speech was cut short by a volley of execrations from the angry guardians of the night. You called her a wanton!" "Because I had every reason to believe she was one. ” He took a quick step forward. CHAPTER VII.
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