“I believe that he would bore me. ‘Help yourself, Hilary. 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. The biological laboratory, perpetually viewing life as pairing and breeding and selection, and again pairing and breeding, seemed only a translated generalization of that assertion. “He must never know,” she would whisper to herself, “he must never know. She saw Lucy darkening her doorstep and stood from the recliner. He donned his winter coat.
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