’ ‘What young lady?’ demanded a voice from the back of the hall. That he had resolved upon its execution, whatever it might be, was evident from his saying aloud,— "I will do it. ‘You think so? Well, if that’s so, I know where she gets her impudence, Prudence Sindlesham. A hush descended across the audience as instruments tuned, creating small ladders of fifths that collapsed abruptly, snatches of solos that disappeared and reappeared like gags in a house of mirrors. But she did not talk readily, and in order to say something she plunged a little, and felt she plunged. The thought caused him an odd kind of pang—of pity, naturally. .
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