The final part of our two-part study:
Jenny hesitated. She turned.
Mr. Thrush met her curious gaze. There was strange warmth in his own.
‘I know you do not like me,’ he said, ‘and I don’t ask that you do—but I would be grateful if you could tell me why.’
‘For no reason,’ she said—and flushed. ‘It’s not that—not that I don’t like—’
‘I have no magic,’ he said. ‘Is that it?’
Her face burned.
‘May I show you something, Miss Graves?’