"And I—I wasn't going to be second fiddle!" said Molly waywardly.
She resisted him a little as he turned her face upwards, but he had his way. There was a quiver of laughter in his voice when he spoke again.
"You could never be that," he said. "You were made to lead the orchestra. Still, tell me why you did it, darling! Make me understand!"
And Molly yielded at length with her arms about his neck.
"I loved you!" she said passionately. "I loved you!"
THE WOMAN OF HIS DREAM
| [Prologue] | [I] | [II] | [III] | [IV] | [V] | [VI] | [VII] | [VIII] | [IX] | [X] | [XI] |