He was a shy boy outwardly but she knew him better in his thoughts, in which perhaps she had already taken upon the role of lover. "It was the story of a man, so to speak, who had left his vitals in his native land and wandered strange paths emptily. But it's so wonderful to watch you! Whenever you have written something beautiful, your face shows it. Perhaps I ought not to; but this isn't a case to fiddle-faddle over. It is no crime, none at all. We felt like thieves. . ” She had no way of retaliating, so she made a decision. She meant to leave anyway, or so she would tell herself later. “I thought you wanted to have a talk to me,” she said. 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.
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