“We are the music and you are the instrument,” she said; “we are verse and you are prose. I naturally want to do it up in proper style. I can. My natural parents both died a very long time ago and I have been on my own for a great deal of my existence. I’ve wanted you—always. "See the devil!—not I," cried Wood impatiently. As he crossed the cellar, he passed so near to Jack who had concealed himself behind a piece of furniture that he almost touched him. Forgive my daring. To-night I locked up my flat at six o’clock. But I know very well that that word will never be spoken. Try and consider me your elder brother, or an old family friend, whichever you like best.
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