A little flame shot up and showed a smile upon his face.
"I owe to her all the charity and tenderness I know.

She taught it to me in those months.

I might have learned more if I had let her go on teaching.

It was the only way she knew." Joan watched her as gradually she shaped herself out of the shadows: the poor, thin, fretful lady of the ever restless hands, with her bursts of jealous passion, her long moods of sullen indifference: all her music turned to waste.
"How did she come to fall in love with you ?" asked Joan.

"I don't mean to be uncomplimentary, Dad." She laughed, taking his hand in hers and stroking it.