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CHAPTER

XXX

Tue episode between Leo Stenak and Patricia Fentriss was headlong as a torrent.

She heard him before she saw

him; heard, rather, his violin, expression and interpreta- .

tion of his innermost self. tone, which

The raucous sweetness of his

he overemphasises

and sentimentalises,

and

which is the cardinal defect of his striking and uneven style, floated out to her as she stood, astonished, in the

exterior hallway of Edna Carroll’s flat. When it died into silence, she supposed that the number was over and entered just as he was resuming. Her first impression was of a plump, sallow, carelessly dressed youth with hair almost as shaggy as her own, and the most wildly luminous eyes she had ever looked into, who turned upon her an infuriated regard and at once pointedly dropped his bow. His savage regard followed her while she crossed the room to speak to her hostess. This was no way to treat high-spirited Pat. Quite deliberately she took off gloves and wrap, handed them to the nearest young man and remarked to the violinist: “It’s very nice of you to wait. I’m quite fixed now, thank you.” A vicious snort was the only response. The accompanist who had trailed along a bar or two before appreciating the interruption, took up his part, and the melody again filled the air. In spite of her exacerbated feelings, Pat recognised the power and distinction of the performance. Nevertheless, she refrained from joining in the applause which followed the final note. 285