She tried to say more--other words that would have been a real comfort; but her tongue refused to speak them.

She knew so well, so woefully well, how very wooden and mechanical the little music teacher's playing always had been.

But that Marie should realize it herself like this--the tragedy of it made Billy's heart ache.

At Marie's next words, however, Billy caught her breath in surprise.
"But you see it wasn't music--it wasn't ever music that I wanted--to do," she confessed.
"It wasn't music! But what--I don't understand," murmured Billy.
"No, I suppose not," sighed the other.

"You play so beautifully yourself." "But I thought you loved music." "I do.