She could still remember herself at age five, staring knives and daggers at the men who came into the small yarn shop, under pretense of business but really just to leer. 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. ‘Parbleu,’ came indignantly from the lady. The Idle Apprentice. “Been and married?. ” “You want to change my look, yes?” Lucy peered at her. And this time the departure had a tremendous effect of finality.
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