"No more shall I. Well, it is all over now. Some day I may meet her, married, probably, but even if she were not and she still had a thought for me I could not offer her this battered up old hulk."
"You just said she wasn't a silly girl, and she would be worse than silly if she did not appreciate you."
"That is the loveliest, most friendly thing for you to say," declared the young man, holding out his hand. "Do you know you speak so much like her that I have been wild enough sometimes to imagine that it was she sitting here reading to me, talking to me. It was a stupid thing to imagine, but, for the moment, it has made me quite happy."
"I am so glad if I could bring you a moment's happiness when you have to live in this darkness." Anita tried to steady her voice and wondered if he observed the thrill which she realized she could not control.
"And that first day, when I asked you to play the Chopin étude, do you remember? It was one which she played the oftenest. She played marvellously well. But, dear me, I know I must be boring you. There is nothing so ungallant as to descant upon one woman's charms when you are talking to another."
"Did you learn that in Paris?" asked Anita, her laugh rippling out.
"In Paris and elsewhere. I stayed mostly in little places when I was in France; Brittany, Normandy I love. I did not mean to revert again to our late subject of conversation, but I have to say this. Not only do you speak like her but your laugh is hers over again. I could believe it Nancy's."
"Ah, her name was Nancy?"
"Yes. It is a dear little name, isn't it?"
Again Anita laughed. She was half hysterical.