“Um.”
CHAPTER II
1
Miriam extended herself on the drawing-room sofa which had been drawn up at the end of the room under the open window.
The quintets of candles on the girandoles hanging on either side of the high overmantel gave out an unflickering radiance, and in the centre of the large room the chandelier, pulled low, held out in all directions bulbs of softly tinted light.
In an intensity of rose-shaded brilliance pouring from a tall standard lamp across the sheepskin hearthrug stood a guest with a fiddle under her arm fluttering pages on a music stand. The family sat grouped towards her in a circle.
On her low sofa, outside the more brilliant light, Miriam was a retreating loop in the circle of seated forms, all visible as she lay with her eyes on the ceiling. But no eyes could meet and pilfer her own. The darkness brimmed in from the window on her right. She could touch the rose-leaves on the sill and listen to the dewy stillness of the garden.
“What shall I play?” said the guest.
“What have you there?”
“Gluck ... Klassische Stücke ... Cavatina.”