dBooks desire

Jennings opened the door into the hall. ``Good
day, Miss Stevens,'' he said with his abrupt bow.
Mildred looked at him; he looked at her. Her lip
trembled, the hot tears flooded and blinded her eyes.
She went unsteadily to the music-stand and tried to see
the notes of the exercises. Jennings closed the door
and seated himself at the far end of the room. She
began--a ridiculous attempt. She stopped, gritted
her teeth, began again. Once more the result was
absurd; but this time she was able to keep on, not
improving, but maintaining her initial off-key quavering.
She stopped.
``You see,'' said she. ``Shall I go on?''
``Don't stop again until I tell you to, please,'' said
he.
She staggered and stumbled and somersaulted through
two pages of DO-RE-ME-FA-SOL-LA-SI. Then he held up
his finger.
``Enough,'' said he.
Silence, an awful silence. She recalled what Mrs.
Belloc had told her about him, what Mrs. Brindley had
implied. But she got no consolation. She said timidly:
``Really, Mr.


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