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“You heard no pistol-shot?” “None. ” He put his hands in his pockets, his mouth puckered to a whistle, and he went to the door of the outer preparation-room and stood there, looking, save for the faintest intensification of his natural ruddiness, the embodiment of blond serenity. \"You cannot know how frustrated I have become. “That doesn’t touch the question I asked you,” she said. Instead, he was bowing to her greataunt. You get this queer irascible musician quite impossibly and unfortunately in love with a wealthy patroness, and then out of his brain comes THIS, a tapestry of glorious music, setting out love to lovers, lovers who love in spite of all that is wise and respectable and right. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.
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