A sarcastic smile seemed to play upon the chief-taker's lips; and abashed at his own irresolution, the lad went on. Sometimes the music would be tender and dreamy, like a native mother's crooning to her young; sometimes it would be so gay that the flesh tingled and the feet were urged to dance; again, it would be like the storms crashing, thunderous. "It's like enough, I dare say," rejoined Sheppard. Shari was to be protected, to be dissuaded from driving in cars with older boys at night, to be steered away from dope and beer and certain friends who had no plans to work or to go to college. She slipped down the perfunctory flight of stairs, short because of the home’s split-level style. He would teach her all he knew of life so that if the Hand should ever reach his shoulder, she would be able to defend herself. Mary is very good, but she is too nervous to be the slightest protection. It isn’t pretty, but we’re made so.
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