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 speed that was like a sailboat on a windy day. And the accompanying song of the steel, cutting through the ice, grinding it into fine white powder, reminded Sheilah of the song of the keel, cutting through the water, grinding it into fine white spray, that rose up and slapped her deliciously in the face. But lately her simple joy in Felix Nawn's skating had been lost in a consuming interest in the stealth of his hands, grasping hers, his bare fingers creeping slowly bit by bit up beyond her short wool gloves to her unprotected wrists, where they would lie long and terrifyingly.

Sheilah raised her head now and stretched out her wrists and gazed at them. The doctor counted her beside that little blue vein there. It was just as if Felix had laid his fingers against her bare heart!

Suddenly she pushed back her chair and stood up. She had heard her mother's step in the hall. Quickly she leaned and picked up her comb, and began dragging it through her tangled hair. Lovely hair. The color of beach-sand just after the tide has left it tawny and gold.

Her mother entered the room without knocking. Lately it seemed to Sheilah as if she must run away and hide when she heard her mother's advancing