Wondering, half apprehensive of she knew not what, Nan twisted round on the music-seat and looked across to where Roger was sitting.

The sharp, quick intake of her breath broke the silence as might a cry.

Weary after his long day in the saddle, soothed by the warmth of the fire and the rhythm of the music, Roger was sleeping peacefully, his head thrown back against a cushion! Nan rose slowly and, coming forward into the circle of the firelight, stared down at him incredulously.

It was unbelievable! She had been giving him all the best that was in her--the work of her brain, the interpretation of her hands--baring her very heart to him during the last half-hour.

And he had slept through it all! In any other circumstances, probably, the humorous side of the matter would have struck her, and the sting and smart of it been washed away in laughter.
But just now it was impossible for her to feel anything but bitterness and hopeless disappointment.