All of Anita's coldness vanished at the first strain of the music; Broussard's voice penetrated her heart and inspired her hand.

When the song was over and she laid her violin down on the piano she was once more the palpitating, shy enthusiast, the half-child, half-woman who had captivated Broussard at the first glance.
During the interludes between the songs it was plain they forgot all except each other.

They turned over songs and read the titles to each other, Broussard sometimes singing, under his breath, the words.

Then, when he sang them in full voice he infused all the verve, the passion, the feeling he knew so well how to command, and played upon Anita's heart-strings with the hand of a master, as Anita played upon the strings of her violin.

The men and women, listening and charmed, smiled at each other; evidently a love affair was on foot such as everybody had expected since the night of the music ride.