Wood became sensible that he was not alone. For all her begging she had been given the choice to go into the nunnery and “learn how to read scrolls with the rest of God’s Spinsters” by her father, but had quickly lost interest when presented with the idea of bearing babies. For hours after she had not been sensible to life, only to exquisite echoes. ‘I disgust you, eh? Very well, then. His anger gave way to grim humour and he thrust towards them, leaning heavily on his cane. She paused for a moment. There was a wall; she was always encountering it; the one time she was able to break through this wall was when the part in his hair was crooked. 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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