Lucy was charmed; how peaceful the baby looked. They were talking of “Alcide,” as they often did in those days. Flinging her back against it, she put her hands out, barring his way. ‘There’s no controlling you, is there?’ He held up his hands. “I want to show you something. 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. “Is it okay if I go to the Junior Prom with John Diedermayer?” She asked Cathy in a low voice.
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