Wild will hang me. " "The very point I aim at," said Darrell as he passed through the outlet. He knew she had been weeping. He played for an hour—Grieg, Chopin, Rubenstein, Liszt, crashing music. He stood a little anxious and fussy, bothered by the responsibility of her, entirely careless of what her life was or was likely to be, ignoring her thoughts and feelings, ignorant of every fact of importance in her life, explaining everything he could not understand in her as nonsense and perversity, concerned only with a terror of bothers and undesirable situations. Jack, whose back was towards it, did not see it; but he heard, from the pitying exclamations of the crowd, that it was in view.
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