“We are the music and you are the instrument,” she said; “we are verse and you are prose. The latter seemed inclined to advance and address the former; but suddenly changing his mind, he shouted to his companion in tones familiar to the stranger's ear; and, striking spurs into his steed, dashed off at full speed along the Edgeware Road. You're luck. But it is not entirely without hope, for perhaps they may find some succour with Charvill. But he promised to give me a couple of guineas if I'd ascertain whether it fitted your locks. Creative work appeals to me wonderfully.
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