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. Prudence Remenham. Her father was holding her waist, smiling. Diane did not hear the footsteps on her brick patio or the audible click of the back door lock being compromised. Oh! you haven't got the key—then I must have it, I suppose.
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