I sha’n’t care a rap if we can never marry. But was that enough? Dim, formless suspicions of something more vital wandered about his mind. 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. The boat rocked violently with the struggle. I made a wrong choice, it seems—but my voice remains. He remained talking with her however. And then this girl had to sweep into and out of his life! He recalled McClintock's comment about Spurlock being the kind that fell soft. She set her fingers in the hair and tugged, drawing him to a sitting posture and stooping so that her eyes would be on the level with his when he awoke.
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