And he knew that the repainting of that false portrait of Mrs.
Taine, with all that it would cost him, was his first offering to that love.
The girl musician finished playing and slipped away.

When they would have recalled her, Mrs.Taine--too well schooled to betray a hint of the emotions aroused by what she had just seen as she watched Aaron King--shook her head.
At that instant, Mr.Taine rose to his feet, supporting himself by holding with shaking hands to the table.

A hush, sudden as the hush of death, fell upon the company.

The millionaire's attendant put out his hand to steady his master, and another servant stepped quickly forward.

But the man who clung so tenaciously to his last bit of life, with a drunken strength in his dying limbs, shook them off, saying in a hoarse whisper, "Never mind! Never mind--you fools--can't you see I'm game!" In the quiet of the room, that a moment before rang with excited voices and shrill laughter, the man's husky, straining, whispered boast sounded like the mocking of some invisible, fiendish presence at the feast.
Lifting a glass of whisky with that yellow, claw-like hand upon which the great diamond gleamed--a spot of flawless purity; with his repulsive features twisted into a grewsome ugliness by his straining effort to force his diseased vocal chords to make his words heard; the wretched creature said: "Here's to our girl musician.