"Never throw away a chance," thought Jonathan. Never was there another girl like this one. And then suddenly—a relief. I never intended it to be anything but a short story, for I had never completed even the shortest of stories unless forced to in grammar school. The black clad students streamed slowly to their positions carrying their instruments like offerings to the pilgrimage. 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. "Enschede!" he called. “We have been all this time—Only your queer code of honor—Honor! Once you begin with love you have to see it through.
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