We'll put this kettle on
first." He thrust the kettle on the flame, pressing the coals down
beneath it to give it surer hold.
"I'm awfully glad you like my room," he said, looking up from his
crouching attitude by the fire. "I should have been sorry if you
hadn't."
"Why?"
"Oh, I don't know. If you hadn't liked my room, you wouldn't have
liked me. My friend and his dog, I suppose."
She tried to smile. "Well, I like it immensely. I think it's so
awfully uncommon. I suppose you could never get a piano that would
go with the rest of the things?"
For the moment his expression hardened. A piano! He hated the sight
of them.
"No, never," he said.
"P'raps you're not fond of music?"
"No, not a bit. Are you?"
"Oh yes; I love it."
His eyes lost their steel again to the tone of her voice when she
said that.
"Well, that's as it ought to be," he remarked. "Religion and music
are two things a woman can't do without. Are you very religious?"
"I don't know exactly what you mean by that. I'm afraid I hardly ever
go to church, and in that sense, I suppose, I'm not religious. But
I always say my prayers every night and morning."
Traill smiled at her gently.
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