We shall have him on his return. He played for an hour—Grieg, Chopin, Rubenstein, Liszt, crashing music. ‘And if you like, I will tell you why. “Think how dumb we find ourselves and stifled! I know we seem to have a sort of freedom. Wild!" demanded Trenchard, as if he had formed a sudden resolution. And Mother trusted him. "I'll make sure work this time," he added, about to repeat the blow. “Let me see,” she said to herself, trying to control a slight sinking of the heart, “I am going to take a room in a lodging-house because that is cheaper. As it is, I'm not sorry for the blunder. Had he been trying to stop the grim descent, and had he dimly perceived that perhaps a fine deed would serve as the initial barrier? A drunken idea—a pearl in the midst of a rubbish heap.
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