” “How the hell did you learn to play like that?” “Lots of practice, John. ” “And you can’t?” “I don’t think I ought to control myself. . . ‘Now what?’ The girl’s voice was shaking, and there were, he saw now, angry tears in her eyes. Your lamented mother, whose loss I shall ever deplore, perceived my passion and encouraged it. Sara Darnell was a sprightly, svelte twenty-five year old who was known for serving detentions at meter maid frequency, if only to be taken marginally more seriously by the predominantly male Lincoln High Science Department. “Who are you?” She asked innocently. ‘Might have forgiven him,’ he muttered under his breath, ‘if he hadn’t taken the babe. Blueskin, however, was not unattended. What she had termed illuminative now appeared to be only another phase of the mystery which enveloped the child. She remained stonily in the middle of the hallway until the spinsters' door shut them from view … for ever.
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