THE violinist flipped the fiddle up under his chin. He drew the bow over the strings and began a gentle melody that reminded one of rain drops falling on calm waters.
Jenks forgot his troubles. He forgot everything. He slumped in his seat and his eyes closed. The rain continued falling from the strings of the violin.
Suddenly the melody changed to a glad little lilting measure, as sweet as love itself. The sun was coming out again and the birds began to sing. There was the trill of a canary with the sun on its cage. There was the song of the thrush, the mocking-bird and the meadow lark. These blended finally into a melodious burst of chirping melody which seemed a chorus of the wild birds of the forest and glen. Then the lilting love measure agsin. It tore at the heart strings, and brought tears to one's eyes.
Unconsciously the girl next to Jenks leaned towards him. Involuntarily he leaned to meet her. Their shoulders touched. The cloud of her golden hair came to rest against his dark locks. Their hands found each other with gentle pressure. Both were lost to the world.
Abruptly the music changed. There was a succession of broken treble notes that sounded like the crackling of flames. Moans deep and melancholy followed. These grew more strident and prolonged, giving place to abject howls, suggesting the lamentations of the damned.
The hands of the boy and girl gripped tensely. They could not help shuddering.
The violin began to produce notes of a leering, jeering character, growing more horrible with each measure until they burst in a loud guffaw of maniacal laughter.
The whole performance was as if someone had taken a heaven and plunged it into a hell.
The musician bowed jerkily, and was gone.
THERE was no applause, only wild exclamations. Half the house was on its feet. The other half sat as if glued to chairs.
The boy and the girl were standing their hands still gripping tensely.
"Come, let's get out of here," said Jenks. The girl took her wrap and Jenks helped her into it. Hand in hand they fled the place.
In the lobby their eyes met, and for the first time they realized they were strangers. Yet deep in their hearts was a feeling that their fates had been sealed.
"My goodness!" burst from the girl
"It can't be helped now," said Jenks decisively.
"What can't be helped?" asked the girl, although she knew in her heart.
"Nothing can be helped," said Jenks. Then he added: "We should know each other by this time. We have been holding hands for an hour."
The girl's eyes flared. "You have no right to presume on that situation," she said.
Jenks could have kicked himself. "Forgive me," he said. "It was only that I just wanted so to know you. Won't you let me see you home?"
"You may," said the girl simply, and she led the way to her own car.
They drove north.
Their bodies seemed like magnets. They were again shoulder to shoulder holding hands.
"Will you tell me your name?" pleaded Jenks.
"Surely," replied the girl. "I'm Elaine Linane."
"What?" exploded Jenks. "Why, I work with a Linane, an engineer with the Muller Construction Company."
"He is my father," she said.
"Why, we are great friends," said the boy. "I am Jenks, hit assistant—at least we work together."
"Yes, I have heard of you," said the girl. "It is strange, the way we met. My father admires your work, but, I am afraid you are not great friends." The girl had forgotten her troubles.
