DAUGHTER. She was the first, wasn't she—the one who made you renounce the world and take to the road?
SINGER (stiffly). Her name was not Chloe.
DAUGHTER (coaxingly). What was it?
SINGER (annoyed). Why rake up the dead ashes of the past? I was but a boy. It was five months ago. Besides, her name was Penelope.
DAUGHTER. You still remember it, though it was so long ago?
SINGER. I could have pretended to have forgotten, if it would have pleased you better.
DAUGHTER (coldly). I? Oh, I am not interested.
SINGER. Well, I didn't start the subject. Perhaps, as neither of us is interested, I had better withdraw. Since we are to start this afternoon, I have much to see about. (Bowing) With your permission.
DAUGHTER (stopping him). Don't go. I am sorry. I have been unkind.
SINGER (smiling). Shall we practise that other song? Our voices agree, if our—our hearts do not.