” “I don’t understand. ” Anna stood up. Instinctively she had fallen into the posture of the poster, her hands behind her, her head bent slightly forward, her chin uplifted, her eyes bright with the drollery of the song. Battle, murder, and sudden death—and an old chap like McClintock tuning his piano in the midst of it. “I beg your pardon,” he said, “but you appear to be a fellow countrywoman of mine, and in some distress. ” Resigned, she rosined the bow and tightened the loose strings. As she did so the preparation-room door opened behind her. You are afraid of kisses.
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