She laid her hand upon his arm. Anna tore it open and passed it to Courtlaw. Her mother had died when she was thirteen, her two much older sisters had married off—one submissively, one insubordinately; her two brothers had gone out into the world well ahead of her, and so she had made what she could of her father. They were now in a sort of cellar, at one end of which was a door. 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. Cathy threw Mike a look. It makes me desire life beyond measure. .
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