\" Lucy felt the familiar warmth surge upward from her crotch. The body of Sir Rowland was then laid on the large table. Her tone was hoarse with passion. John laughed even harder, his eyes misting over. The Master listened, with becoming attention, to the narrative, and, at its conclusion, shook his head gravely, applied his thumb to the side of his nose, and, twirling his fingers significantly, winked at his phlegmatic companion. She was too late. Yes, this was a little better. But Jack was too well versed in the geography of the place to attempt either of them. A sudden knock at the door startled her. And look, again, at the women one finds letting lodgings. What was it in her heart or mind or soul that went out to this man? Music—was that it? Was he powerless to stir her without the gift? But hadn't he fascinated her by his talk, gentle and winning? Ah, but that had been after he had played for her.
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