But days had now passed. ” “Friendship and love being separate things. She hesitated in answering the door, her violin still crooked underneath her chin. I'm heading for bed. ” He dropped his eye-glass with a clatter. He was a civil servant of some standing, and after a previous conversation upon aesthetics of a sententious, nebulous, and sympathetic character, he had sent her a small volume, which he described as the fruits of his leisure and which was as a matter of fact rather carefully finished verse. And no ill-chances. Breakfast, too, was an impossible occasion. There was granite in her face and agate in her eyes.
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