’ Chapter Five ‘Now then, young Jack,’ Gerald said, turning to the lad, who was sitting in the place lately vacated by his self-appointed mistress, but in a state of far less relaxation. “You must play for us again sometime. A corner could hold the promise of a shelf of dainty crystals, volcanic ices of rainbow colors, or figurines of saints sculpted from horn and bone reenacting their martyrdoms on delicate miniature wooden stages. The likeness was ridiculous. Courtlaw—Lady Mackinnor. He had been dreaming of Ruth—an old recurrency of that dream he had had in Canton, of Ruth leading him to the top of the mountain. The future Mrs Roding turned bright, laughing eyes on the major. “Muck-headed moral ass! I ought to have done anything. She had never before heard the noise of firecrackers, and in the beginning the sputtering racket caused her to wince. Her soft brown eyes, inherited from Larry, warmed an already pretty face. “Mr. “How have you been lately, Lucy? You’ve been such a stranger.
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