the composition of mere catchy dance pieces until he met Joan Royle, who then had but little more education than himself, yet who willed and inspired him to the work and studies which enabled him to compose the great Symphony in C Major—"
The wonder of the vision lifted her from the shame of Dads' propitious days; it made her of account in the world of her embarrassments, indignities and disgrace. So afloat upon her fancy, she drifted to sleep.
Steps in the court awakened her—quick, peremptory footsteps of two men walking side by side with clicking, important tread. Joan Daisy recognized its meaning and she started up, with a familiar sinking at heart, as she heard the policemen enter the building by the door directly below.
She was sure that they had come for Dads; and as the moon told her that she scarcely had slept and the hour was deep in the night, she knew that the cause, which brought the police, must be more serious than usual. For a mere dispossession, they would wait until day.
She arose and slipped into her kimono while she listened for their approach to her door. Now she heard a knocking, but not upon the panels here; it was below.
She thought they had made a mistake in the floor and that they would be upstairs in a moment; for they seemed to be at Ket's door.
They had awakened Ket and were talking to him. Some one slammed a door. Ket, probably, irritated at being disturbed by mistake. But the police did not proceed upstairs; they seemed to have entered Ket's room. A cry reached her, not by the stairs, but by way of her open window.
It was Ket's voice, and he frightened her. She sprang to her bay to listen when some one closed Ket's window; yet the drum of accusing voices beat through. They
