"It has been quite affecting to watch its influence upon Mr.King." The artist laughed.

"I admit that I found the music, in combination with the beauty I have so feebly tried to out upon canvas, very stimulating." A flash of angry color swept into the perfect cheeks of Mrs.Taine, as she retorted with meaning; "You are as flattering in your speech as you are with your brush.

I assure you I do not consider myself in your unknown musician's class." The small eyes of James Rutlidge were fixed inquiringly upon the speakers, while his heavy face betrayed--to the watchful novelist--an interest he could not hide.

"Is this music of such exceptional merit ?" he asked with an attempt at indifference.
Louise Taine--sensing that the performances of the unnamed violinist had been acceptable to Conrad Lagrange and Aaron King--the two representatives of the world to which she aspired--could not let the opportunity slip.

She fairly deluged them with the spray of her admiring ejaculations in praise of the musician--employing, hit or miss, every musical term that popped into her vacuous head.
"Indeed,"-- said the critic,--"I seem to have missed a treat." Then, directly to the artist,--"And you say the violinist is wholly unknown to you ?" "Wholly," returned the painter, shortly.
Conrad Lagrange saw a faint smile of understanding and disbelief flit for an instant over the heavy face of James Rutlidge.
When the automobile, at last, was departing with the artist's guests; the two friends stood for a moment watching it up the road to the west, toward town.