"What's that?—Jack's voice!" "It is," replied her son. It seemed to show a want of affection, to be a deliberate and unmerited disregard, to justify the reprisal of being hurt. She was supposed to be lifeless; but she survived the accident, though she never regained her strength. What was it in her heart or mind or soul that went out to this man? Music—was that it? Was he powerless to stir her without the gift? But hadn't he fascinated her by his talk, gentle and winning? Ah, but that had been after he had played for her. Come along, you mad jade. An audible crack sounded in the kitchen and Mark slumped backwards, unconscious.
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