’ Miss Froxfield regarded him in some interest. Women are made like the potter’s vessels —either for worship or contumely, and are withal fragile vessels. What was it in her heart or mind or soul that went out to this man? Music—was that it? Was he powerless to stir her without the gift? But hadn't he fascinated her by his talk, gentle and winning? Ah, but that had been after he had played for her. “Boys!” said Capes. ” She hesitated and looked for a moment straight into his eyes. The sing-song girl, seeing Ruth, extended her hands and began to chatter rapidly. But, let's see the prisoner.
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