She looked, Dorothée said, just as she always looks. His face changed and she saw, with a stab at her heart, the dawning of irritation in his eyes. Where was the harm in letting her go? She could not get far. ’ She eyed him. Sometimes the music would be tender and dreamy, like a native mother's crooning to her young; sometimes it would be so gay that the flesh tingled and the feet were urged to dance; again, it would be like the storms crashing, thunderous. It was she—— Anna’s nerves were not easily shaken, but she found herself suddenly clutching at the table for support.
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