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The pianist took a long look at Nell who had been visibly affected by his playing. Misgivings that date back to Eden were leaping into life in his breast. He had been in love more times than he could count, but here was the girl after all. He began a Scherzo of his own composition. Youth gathering flowers at the open mouth of a volcano. The melody was born to live forever. He was a genius. Now Nell knew it and her soul worshipped genius. Howard Eliot was far from her thoughts as she listened to the enchanting chain of melodies that poured forth. jahaj wala, “Don’t feel so bad, Chick,” he comforted; “it won’t bring them to life, and it hurts you. That’s why you don’t grow faster; your feelings eats up all your blood.”

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