It was just then that she came face to face with Nigel Ennison. She was too wrapped up in the sheer joy of playing again; it had 201 been intimate, masturbatory. There was a hint of tears in her voice. ” “Anything except that,” he murmured. Gay, was a stout, good-looking, good-humoured man, about thirty-six, with a dark complexion, an oval face, fine black eyes, full of fire and sensibility, and twinkling with roguish humour—an expression fully borne out by the mouth, which had a very shrewd and sarcastic curl. But you must allow me to observe, my good Sir, that you're wholly in the wrong respecting my friend. The poet's appearance altogether was highly prepossessing. Her heartbeat quickened.
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