He played for an hour—Grieg, Chopin, Rubenstein, Liszt, crashing music. He yelled to her, asking her if she wished to have a drink with him, which she refused. His mother used to live i' this village, just down yonder; but when her son took to bad ways, she went distracted,—and now she's i' Bedlam, I've heerd. Did he track her? She was unaware if he did. No doubt they've all been rejected; but he couldn't throw them overboard. Your time isn't come yet. Then a handkerchief was thrown over the cage, to prevent the bird from singing; it was her favourite canary. But how close? She glanced about at the shrouded furnishings for possible cover. "Egad!" exclaimed Wood, "you've hit the right nail on the head, anyhow.
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