“Why, did you find me unworthy?”
“I suppose you were worthy enough, but I have learned it is not well to let one’s affection wrap their tendrils too close about another; it hurts so when they are snapped.”
“There is no reason for them to be snapped,” he argued. “The joy of clinging should make them strong enough to wrap and unwrap, leaving its sweet effect.” As he was leaving, “Trust men for little and your instinct for a good deal,” he said. His visit had made him all the more determined. A profound passion can be displaced only by one greater. He had had no experience in guiding people, but he had a desperate faith in his own way of reasoning.
CHAPTER VII.
Glenn Andrews took Esther with him to the concert. It was a great violinist’s last appearance for the season.
She was happily excited, unconsciously holding Glenn by the sleeve. The glitter and glory of this wonderful, new world was dazzling. The violinist, with his long hair and big face of rugged strength, enchained her the moment the music commenced.
With the intensity of her growing enthusiasm, she gripped Glenn’s arm. He was repeatedly recalled.
“I expect one day to see you sway them like that,” he whispered, as the curtain went down for the fourth time.
“Don’t! it is impossible,” she said, sighing. “I am just beginning to feel that my teeth are not strong enough.”
“There was a time when his were not, but he wouldn’t let go,” Glenn said with emphasis.