“Politics!” Ennison answered grimly. ‘Lord,’ he uttered, glancing about with a disparaging eye. Sometimes the music would be tender and dreamy, like a native mother's crooning to her young; sometimes it would be so gay that the flesh tingled and the feet were urged to dance; again, it would be like the storms crashing, thunderous. He had set out to win her, and she had let him start. “That is my dream of you,” said Manning, warming. “Well,” he said, argumentatively, “it IS. Ennison. And then there came for both of them at least a temporary awakening. ’ Gerald frowned.
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