“We are the music and you are the instrument,” she said; “we are verse and you are prose. I'll write an opera the scene of which shall be laid altogether in Newgate, and the principal character shall be a highmaywan. That is why I ask you. I still have a cross stitch she made for me of a little fairy sitting on a daffodil. This year—I’ve got it badly. He had heard me sing—the fool thought himself in love with me. ‘Something in that, missie. He was an imaginative young man. ’ ‘Because I like you, of course,’ Gerald said promptly.
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