” Part 11 They sat for a time without speaking a word, in an enormous shining globe of mutual satisfaction. She tucked the mission Bible under her arm, and crooking a finger at Rollo, went forth to the west beach where the sou'-west surge piled up muddily, burdened with broken spars, crates, boxes, and weeds. . She looked up and said, a little breathlessly, “I’m sorry, aunt, but I don’t think I can. Another picture slid across her vision. “Heavens!” she exclaimed. “I don’t think she will,” she said. I should have thought my note cleared up everything. It was a dead calm. Ann Veronica had had some training at the Tredgold College in disentangling threads from confused statements, and she had a curious persuasion that in all this fluent muddle there was something—something real, something that signified. To Breanna for believing in this project at every step. 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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