It would be downright cruel to disillusion her. “Do you play an instrument?” “I play the fiddle sometimes. . He wore a silk hat a little tilted, and a morning coat buttoned round a tight, contained figure; and a white slip gave a finish to his costume and endorsed the quiet distinction of his tie. He did not write this with lead but with his heart's blood. It was as if she had come upon the beautiful marble façade of a fairy palace, was invited to enter, and behind the door—nothing. He had scarcely completed his toilet, when he was startled by a noise at the door, and heard his own name pronounced in no friendly accents. I suppose I believe in God. . .
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