She sat down and answered the Unknown's letter:
"The room is closed and warm and silent. The lamp and the fire give a mellow glow to the heavy old-rose curtains, and to the soft-tinted arabesques on the carpet. Some large pale roses are leaning drowsily over their vase, and dreaming their scented souls away.
"I am smoking a Russian cigarette (with a _soupçon_ of white heliotrope added to its fragrance), and writing to you.
"My unknown friend! Are you worthy of companionship with the scent of my roses and the smoke of my cigarette--such delicate, unselfish things?..."
A piercing cry from the adjoining room made Nancy leap from her chair. Penholder in hand, she rushed into Anne-Marie's room. The child, a slip of white, was standing on her bed, pale of cheek, wild of eye, one hand extended towards the wall. Her tumbled hair stood yellow and flame-like round her head.
"Listen!" she gasped--"listen!" And Nancy stopped and listened.
Clearly and sweetly through the wall came the voice of a violin. Then the piano struck in, accompanying the "Romance" of Svendsen. Anne-Marie stood like a little wild prophetess, with her hand stretched out. Then she whispered: "It is the lovely piece--the lovely piece that he could not remember!"
"It is a violin, darling," said Nancy, and sat down on the bed.
But Anne-Marie was listening, and did not move. Nancy drew the blanket over the little bare feet, and put her arm round the slight, nightgowned figure.
The last long-drawn note ended; then Anne-Marie moved. She covered her face with her hands and began to cry.
"Why do you cry, darling--why do you cry?" asked Nancy embracing her.
Anne-Marie's large eyes gazed at Nancy. "For many things--for many things!" she said. And Nancy for the first time felt that her child's spirit stood alone, beyond her reach and out of her keeping.
Anne-Marie held her tight, and did not answer. Nancy coaxed her back to bed, and soon tucked her up and left her. But the door between them was kept wide open, and the sound of Grieg's "Berceuse" and Handel's "Minuet" reached Nancy at her table, and helped her to add fantastic details to her letter.
The next morning they moved to the boarding-house in Lexington Avenue. They did not see George, who had already gone down-town to his shipping office; but Peggy helped them into the carriage, and with Minna ran up and down the stairs after forgotten parcels.