\" His tone was weak and conciliatory. Only au revoir. Wild horses wouldn’t drag it out of me, even I knew anything, which I don’t. ” He put his head on one side, pulled down the corners of his mouth, and looked at her over his glasses. The call of youth to youth, and we name it love for want of something better: a glamorous, evanescent thing "like snow upon the desert's dusty face, lighting a little hour or two, was gone. 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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