Unfaithful,
even to a slender memory, it was not in her nature to be. The benefit
of the Church now was the only door through which she could pass out
of his life. She considered no likelihood of it; for, in common with
those of her sex in whom the strong waters of emotion run deep in
the vein of sentiment, she felt--being once possessed by him--that
he was the lord of her life.
"But I warn you," she added, with a pathetic smile, "I shan't be good
company. You'll have to do all the talking. You'll have to make all
the jokes."
"I'm prepared to do as much and more," he said lightly.
"Then you must wait while I put on my hat. Play the piano--can you?"
"No--not I. Can you?"
"Yes--just a little."
"Sing?"
"Yes--sometimes."
"Ah, that settles it. We come back here after dinner, and you sing
every song in your repertoire."
She laughed brightly at his enthusiasm. "You're really fond of
music?" she said.
"Yes, passionately. And I suffer little for my passion because I know
absolutely nothing about it. That's a promise, then? You'll sing to
me after dinner?"
"Yes, I should love to."
So much had her spirits lifted in this deceptive atmosphere of
diversion that Devenish even heard her humming a tune in the other
room.
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