Marianne, in love with Abe, a blind musician several years her senior, suffers pangs of jealousy when he's invited to accompany a rising soprano who is attractive, an old friend of Abe's, and, like him, Jewish. Marianne, 17, is proud of encouraging Abe's independence; he used to board with her and her mother, but now lives on his own with a friend. Still, she is fiercely protective and dedicates her free time to helping him and to doing things he can share, giving up activities that she would enjoy--sports, dancing, and a coveted part in the school play. It's obvious to the reader long before it is to Marianne that Abe wishes no such sacrifice and is in fact beginning to chafe at the intensity of her well-meaning attention; when he suggests getting a guide dog to increase his independence, Marianne feels hurt and doesn't understand the need. Yet their love is real, even though the reader may suspect that their interests are so divergent and Marianne still so immature that they may not be destined for a permanent relationship. Though Abe is less fully developed than Marianne, readers will be interested in his self-sufficiency; other characters, including the boozing would-be other man, are succinctly evoked. The British setting makes little difference; these young people are universal enough. Ure belabors her point about Abe's independence, and the loose ends in Abe and Marianne's relationship are more characteristic of life than of art, but, still, this should interest readers as an unusual love story.