“We are the music and you are the instrument,” she said; “we are verse and you are prose. She stopped abruptly at the sound of his voice, and lost the thread of what she was saying. "But, pardon my intrusion. Come now, I am very glad to see you again so soon, mademoiselle whatever-your-name-is. He picked up the broken fiddle and beckoned. ’ She gestured at his hand, on which Roding’s makeshift bandage had been replaced by a more efficient one. She had often wondered if Hoddy would ever go back to it. His salary was a few paltry hundreds a year.
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