Who walked you home?\" Mike asked her, his voice tinged with jealousy, as she passed the garlic bread. Then he opened the study door and called “Mollie!” and returned to assume an attitude of authority on the hearthrug, before the blue flames and orange glow of the gas fire. 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. “Uh, I think I might, Shari. ‘So yours is the rattling tongue, is it, young madam?’ ‘I should say so.
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