But such is the perversity of the human that frequently thereafter he purposely crooked the part in his hair, to give her the excuse to fetch the comb. He had an air of having told her a deep, personal secret. The splendid voices sang on from phase to phase of love’s unfolding, the ship drove across the sea to the beating rhythm of the rowers. Have you not tired of sadness and pain?” 81 She thought she could hear tears in his voice but would not look at him. Sometimes the music would be tender and dreamy, like a native mother's crooning to her young; sometimes it would be so gay that the flesh tingled and the feet were urged to dance; again, it would be like the storms crashing, thunderous. She could see that she was now the exclusive object of the boy’s attention. ’ ‘No. "So I will," rejoined Shotbolt; "so I will.
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