She hesitated in answering the door, her violin still crooked underneath her chin. But he had shown no desire for information, no curiosity. “Of course,” she said diffidently, “this is a boarding-house, although we never take in promiscuous travellers. She stole a few glances at John as she stood and played the pieces. She must have the capability to learn magic, to learn the enchantments that add to her power. Before she passed out she turned and faced Sir John. She would come and sit cross-legged just beyond the bamboo curtain and silently watch him at work. Can you kill yourself?” He asked quietly.
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