But it seemed to her that he had spoken to her
as she to him. The music had, after all, been a bridge. It was not even
strange that he had used Durrance's voice wherewith to speak to her.
"When was this?" she asked at length.
"In February of this year. I will tell you about it."
"Yes, please, tell me."
And Durrance spoke out of the shadows of the room.
CHAPTER XVIII
THE ANSWER TO THE OVERTURE
Ethne did not turn towards Durrance or move at all from her attitude.
She sat with her violin upon her knees, looking across the moonlit
garden to the band of silver in the gap of the trees; and she kept her
position deliberately. For it helped her to believe that Harry Feversham
himself was speaking to her, she was able to forget that he was speaking
through the voice of Durrance. She almost forgot that Durrance was even
in the room. She listened with Durrance's own intentness, and anxious
that the voice should speak very slowly, so that the message might take
a long time in the telling, and she gather it all jealously to her
heart.
"It was on the night before I started eastward into the desert--for the
last time," said Durrance, and the deep longing and regret with which he
dwelt upon that "last time" for once left Ethne quite untouched.
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