“But why is it preposterous?” asked Ann Veronica, and fiddled with a pipe on the mantel. It was a clear, lovely, October morning. What was it in her heart or mind or soul that went out to this man? Music—was that it? Was he powerless to stir her without the gift? But hadn't he fascinated her by his talk, gentle and winning? Ah, but that had been after he had played for her. I am a man—of a sort of experience. ” “I’m so glad you’ll go. . She searched for it for many days that stretched into weeks before she gave up. She's my mealticket. .
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