He saluted awkwardly. “Well, you have thought it over?” he said, sitting down beside her. It mattered not whether she flunked the year as she would soon be gone. . . . 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. Shakily, she rose with the sword and drove it through Rhea’s heart. She did not open the Bible but laid it on the edge of the bed, knelt and rested her forehead upon the worn leather cover.
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