I used to play it with my brother." "Go to it, then," said Paula.
But the V.A.D.

hesitated.
"Go on! Look at the boys, and look at his face." The V.A.D.glanced about the room at the lines of pale and patient faces, which, in spite of the marks of pain, were so pathetically and resolutely bright.

Then she glanced at Barry's face.

He had forgotten all about his surroundings, and his face was illumined with the light from those hidden lamps that burn deep in the soul of genius, a light enriched and warmed by the glow of a heart in sympathy with its kind.
In obedience to Paula's command and a little push upon her shoulder, the V.A.D.sat down at the piano and touched the notes softly, feeling for the key, then fell in with the violin.
At the first note, Barry turned sharply about and as she found her key and began to follow, he stepped back to her side.

Immediately, from his instrument, there seemed to flow a richer, fuller stream of melody.