"Can't!" repeated his mother. " "Meaning that I don't belong anywhere, in heaven or on earth?" "Meaning that you must cut off the wing or grow another to mate it. 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. It makes me want to be just everything I CAN be to you. \" She said, and they walked down the pebble stone path designed for joggers and bikers. In a few seconds, the shutter flew open,—then the window,—and they were in the room. Romance! The romance of passing faces, of wires that carried voices and words to the far ends of the world, of tremendous mechanisms that propelled ships and trains! And, oh the beautiful books! She swiftly knelt upon the floor and once more gathered the books to her heart. Bird and have come hither.
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