He saw three people: a young man at the piano, an elderly man smoking in a corner, and a young woman reclining in a chair, her eyes closed. It was as much accident as anything, but she had killed him. It was an odd little encounter, that left vague and dubitable impressions in her mind. For the first time in her life she had heard music; the door to enchanted sounds had been flung wide. Married the other and ran off after Mary died. "Von't you hear me?—ough! ough!" demanded Sharples, after a pause. “Queer letters he writes,” she said. Inquiring for Mrs.
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