"When I was younger, in the days when I tried to do everything that he did, I tried to learn it too.

But I have no music in me." "It is a solace," answered Mr.Pincornet.

"I learned long ago, in the South." "I like the harp," announced Rand abruptly.
"It is a becoming instrument to a woman," replied Mr.Pincornet, and in a somewhat ghostly fashion became vivacious.

"Ah, a rounded arm, a white hand, the rise and fall of a bosom behind the gold wires--and the notes like water dropping, sweet, sweet! Ah, I, too, like the harp!" "I have never heard it but twice," said Rand, and turned again to the balustrade.

Below him lay the vast and shadowy landscape.