Gerald stood quite still for a moment or two, listening intently. With his black and gray hair, his gray-green eyes were a striking contrast and he looked even younger, as if he had been frozen at age thirty-three. He had been for months without music of the character he loved—and he dared not play any of it! McClintock, after the music began, left the piano and sat in a corner just beyond the circle of light cast by the lamp. Sheppard had been interred. Then she stepped back into the empty room and stood for a moment looking down upon the scattered fragments of her last canvas. But his own ferocity was less now that she was disarmed.
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