baby,
whose face
in its new
bed she
could just
see by the
night-light's
glow. The
afternoon
had shaken
her
nerves.
Nor was
Betty's
method of
breathing
while
asleep
conducive
to the
slumber of
anything
but
babies. It
was so
hot, too,
and the
sound of
the violin
still in
her ears.
By that
little air
of Poise,
she had
known for
certain it
was
Fiorsen;
and her
father's
abrupt
drawing of
the
curtains
had
clinched
that
certainty.
If she had
