She kept her face downcast. The letter began: “MY DEAREST GIRL,—I cannot let you do this foolish thing—” She crumpled notes and letter together in her hand, and then with a passionate gesture flung them into the fire. Sheppard, after a brief pause, during which she appeared overcome by her feelings,—she said, gently disengaging herself from the young girl's embrace, and speaking in a firm voice, "you must dissuade your father from this step. We've got to make him take up the harp of life and go twanging it again. She smiled mechanically at the audience, holding her violin limply, feeling the hot lights on her made-up face. Brendon looked across the room at her thoughtfully. Sheppard, falling on her knees.
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