She sat there, a mark for boulevarders, the unconscious object of numberless wondering glances. Would Gerald wish his friend to follow the man? He had hardly registered the decision that he had best do so, albeit with some reluctance, when his trained senses alerted him to an extraordinary circumstance. 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. She was the type that people of every age gravitated to, naturally affable and kind to everyone. "Yes.
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