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- nowned Merrill Link smoking a cigar
on his porch, and were cheered by a condescending bow from the great one. The uninteresting Jenkins was training a wistaria vine on to a trellis; from the Beatties' cottage issued the soft strains of Goddard's Second Waltz. Miles didn't know it was that, but it seemed of a piece with the quiet beauty of the evening and made his heart beat a little faster; and he would have lingered within sound of the piano had not Hunter drawn him forcibly on.
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"It's murder," he growled. "Come
on, for heaven's sake!"
"I'm glad I'm not musical," said Miles. "One's range of pleasure is so much broader if one hasn't a cultivated ear. Now I, in my ignorance, liked that."
