” John tried to direct the topic away from him. Lucy could sense her mental resolution to nip Michelle’s burgeoning obsession with the occult in the bud. Michelle sat on her bed, which emanated scents of powdered laundry detergent and Sweet Honesty perfume. He stirred continually, thrusting his legs about and flinging his arms above his head. 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. I went to the theatre that night.
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