She struggled into the large sleeves, and he made no effort to help her.
“You don’t like music, do you?” she asked naïvely as she settled back in her chair.
“Well, yes,” he said slowly. “I should say the thing I dislike least in the world is music.”
“Then why didn’t you come in to hear me play?” asked Guinevere, emboldened by the darkness.
“Oh, I could hear it outside,” he assured her; “besides, I have a pair of defective lamps in my head. The electric lights hurt my eyes.”
He struck a match as he spoke to relight his pipe, and by its flare she caught her first glimpse of his face, a long, slender, sensitive face, brooding and unhappy.
“I guess you are Mr. Hinton,” she said as if to herself.
He turned with the lighted match in his hand. “How did you know that?”
[p167]
“The captain told me. He pointed out you and Mr. Mathews, but he didn’t tell me any of the rest.”
“A branch of your education that can afford to remain neglected,” said Mr. Hinton as he puffed at his pipe.