“And to-night we are friends?” “We are friends,” said Ann Veronica, and drew her hand quickly away from him. my first symphony!” Brown’s eyebrows rose skeptically. At length, when he saw no escape from the inevitable, he took the four title pages from the manuscripts and typed new ones, substituting Taber for Spurlock. A lucky escape. Ann Veronica, after a last survey of the dinner appointments, followed him, rustling, came to his side by the high brass fender, and touched two or three ornaments on the mantel above the cheerful fireplace. A new thought checked her steps and she froze. “Why don’t you?” “Well, it might mean rather a row.
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