"Poor Captured Angel!" murmured Saltash softly. "So fair of face, so sad of soul!"
She did not respond. She felt as if in that recognition something had pierced her heart. It was like a revelation of things to come. So for awhile she stood, gazing upon that tragic figure of broken womanhood; and finally in silence turned away.
He went with her to the door, but he did not offer a second time to accompany her farther. On the threshold she gave him her hand in farewell.
"You will come again?" he said.
She met his strange, unstable eyes for a moment and fancied that they pleaded with her.
"Not to see you, Charlie," she said, and was conscious in a vaguely troubled way that the words cost her an effort.
His eyes flashed her a laugh. "No, not to see me," he said lightly. "Of course not. Just for your own enjoyment. You will enjoy that piano, you know. And you can have it all to yourself."
She smiled in spite of herself even against her will. "Very well," she said. "I will come again some day, And thank you very much."
"Oh, don't do that!" he protested. "It spoils everything."
She released her hand, and turned from him, still smiling. "Good-bye!" she said.