John’s father added cheerfully, “So, do you play any violin?” She balked at the stereotype, but admitted, “Yes, I play violin. ‘I knew it. She gasped with pain, but she did not release her grip. No doubt that was due to his helplessness. “Why not? Isn’t the whole thing a lie? Isn’t her reputation, this husband of hers, the ‘Alcide’ business, isn’t it all a cursed juggle? She hasn’t the right to do it. Her first impulse was to fly to the window; and she was about to pass through it, at the risk of sharing the fate of the unfortunate lady, when her arm was grasped by some one in the act of ascending the ladder from without. “You call yourself an artist— but you have no temperament.
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