The music took hold of her slowly as her eyes wandered from the indistinct still ranks of the audience to the little busy orchestra with its quivering violins, its methodical movements of brown and silver instruments, its brightly lit scores and shaded lights. "May I beg to know whom I've the pleasure of adressing? Jackson, I conclude, is merely an assumed name. ’ ‘Miss?’ gaped the soldier. “It looks all right,” said Capes. He walked in her direction. He said the place had gone to wrack. But the morning brought courage again, and those first intimations of horror vanished completely from her mind. .
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