But Gerald wouldn’t hear of it. Á bientot—Melusine. 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. Dear me, what a difference it has made! No one would ever think that we were sisters. She was dressed in a simple evening gown of soft creamy silk, with a yoke of dark old embroidery that enhanced the gentle gravity of her style, and her black hair flowed off her open forehead to pass under the control of a simple ribbon of silver. Ralph. He ignored her protests in order to pursue some impressive line of his own.
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