I have been lonely sometimes for
some one to talk music to."
Lonely! Poor Peter!
"Then you will let me come back?"
"Will I, indeed! I--I'll be grateful."
"How soon would be proper? I dare say to-morrow you'll be
busy--Christmas and all that."
"Do you mean you would like to come to-morrow?"
"If old Peter wouldn't be fussed. He might think--"
"Peter always wants every one to be happy. So if you really
care--"
"And I'll not bore you?"
"Rather not!"
"How--about what time?"
"In the afternoon would be pleasant, I think. And then Jimmy can
listen. He loves music."
McLean, having found his fur-lined coat, got into it as slowly as
possible. Then he missed a glove, and it must be searched for in
all the dark corners of the salon until found in his pocket. Even
then he hesitated, lingered, loath to break up this little world
of two.
"You play wonderfully," he said.
"So do you."
"If only something comes of it! It's curious, isn't it, when you
think of it? You and I meeting here in the center of Europe and
both of us working our heads off for something that may never pan
out."
There was something reminiscent about that to Harmony. It was not
until after young McLean had gone that she recalled. It was
almost word for word what Peter had said to her in the
coffee-house the night they met. She thought it very curious, the
coincidence, and pondered it, being ignorant of the fact that it
is always a matter for wonder when the man meets the woman, no
matter where.
Pages:
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164