CHAPTER 7

conscientious expression—then she laughed,

an absurd, charming little laugh, and I laughed too and stepped further into the room.

"I'm p-paralyzed with happiness."

She laughed again, as if she had said something very witty, and held my hand for a moment, looking up into my face, promising that there was no

one in the world she so much wanted to see. That was a way she had. She hinted in a murmur that the

balancing girl's surname was Taylor. (I've heard it said that Lily's murmur was just to make people lean toward her; a minor criticism that made it no less charming.)

In any case, Miss Taylor's lips fluttered, she nodded at me almost imperceptibly, then quickly tipped her head back again—the object she was balancing had clearly tottered a

little and given her a slight fright. Again, an apology rose to my lips. Almost any display of complete self-sufficiency draws a stunned tribute from me.

I looked back at my cousin, who began to ask me questions in her low, thrilling voice. It

was the kind of voice that the ear follows up and down as if each speech were an arrangement of notes that would never be played again. Her face was sad and lovely

with bright features, bright eyes and a bright, passionate mouth—

but there was an excitement in her voice that men who had cared for her found hard to forget: a singing

compulsion, a whispered 'Listen,' a promise that she had done joyful, thrilling things just recently and that there were more exciting things coming up soon.

I told her how I had stopped off in Chicago for a day on my way east and how a dozen people had sent their love through me.