I want to know what it has to do with my scheme of colour, anyway." When Jane heard the story, she was spending a few days with the Brands in Wimpole Street.

It was told at tea, in Lady Brand's pretty boudoir.
The duchess's Concert, at which Garth had heard her sing THE ROSARY, was a thing of the past.

Nearly a year had elapsed since their final parting, and this was the very first thought or word or sign of his remembrance, which directly or indirectly, had come her way.

She could not doubt that the tune hummed had been THE ROSARY.
"The hours I spent with thee, dear heart, Are as a string of pearls to me; I count them over, every one, apart." She seemed to hear Garth's voice on the terrace, as she heard it in those first startled moments of realising the gift which was being laid at her feet--"I have learned to count pearls, beloved." Jane's heart was growing cold and frozen in its emptiness.

This incident of the studio warmed and woke it for the moment, and with the waking came sharp pain.