The personality of the player forced itself upon her with a curious insistence, and she had an odd feeling that he did it by deliberate intention.

Every chord he struck seemed to speak to her directly, compelling her attention, dominating her will.

He was playing to her alone, and, though she chose to ignore the fact, she was none the less aware of it.

By his music he enthralled her, making her see the things he saw, making her feel the fiery unrest that throbbed in every beat of his heart.
Gracie, standing beside him, watching with fascinated eyes the strong hands that charmed from the old piano such music as probably it had never before uttered, was enthralled also, but only in a superficial sense.

She was keenly interested in the play of his fingers, which seemed to her quite wonderful, as indeed it was.
He took no more notice of her admiring gaze than if she had been a fly, pouring out his magic flood of music with eyes fixed straight before him and lips that were sometimes hard and sometimes tender.