The slender fingers seemed almost transparent, glowing rosily in the firelight.

Davilof turned to go.
"Good-bye, then," he said curtly.
"Good-bye." Magda nodded indifferently.

Then, carelessly: "I shall want you to-morrow, Davilof--same time." He swung round.
"I will never play for you again.

Did you imagine I should ?" She smiled at him--that slow, subtle smile of hers with its hint of mockery.
"You won't be able to keep away," she replied.
"I will never play for you again," he repeated.

"Never! I will teach myself to hate you." She shook her head lightly.
"Impossible, Davilof." "It's not impossible.