The soft musical quality of her voice stirred Jimmy's soul.
"It's like the harp in the orchestra. When a hand sweeps over the harp strings, you can hear it above all the trumpets and drums, it's so—so ineffably sweet, only there's never enough of it."
All this Jimmy thought as he exchanged Molly's greetings.
"Are you from the South?" he asked later when he found himself beside her at the breakfast table.
"I'm from Kentucky," she answered promptly and proudly.
"So am I," he almost shouted, and then they exchanged new glances of deeper interest and presently were plunged in a conversation about home.
Jimmy forgot that Judy, his sponsor at Wellington, sat at his right hand and Molly was oblivious to Lawrence Upton on her left.
"I suppose you never get any corn bread here?" Jimmy asked.
"Not our kind," replied Molly. "What they have here is made of fine meal with sugar in it."
Jimmy made a wry face.