“I want tremendously to hear you play. You will play for me some time, won’t you?”
Nan trembled with delight. What did this not suggest? Future meetings after this summer dream was over? “Of course I will,” she responded, “if we should ever happen to be together where there is a piano.”
“Oh, we shall be. You don’t suppose I shall let you all fade out of sight after all these good times together? You are in New York sometimes, aren’t you? I think I have heard you speak of having friends there.”
“We have some very dear friends, and we generally stop on our way up or down to see them. If you ever talked to Mary Lee you would have been sure to hear her speak of Miss Dolores Pinckney. She is Mary Lee’s idol and is to be married in the fall. We are to be her bridesmaids.”
“Then you will be walking in to this.” He tucked his violin under his chin and began the Bridal Chorus. “I hope it will remind you of this special occasion,” he said as he paused. “You must say to yourself: The last time I heard that was when that renegade artist played it for me.”
“Oh, but you are not a renegade, I hope.”
“I don’t know whether I am or not. What is a renegade anyhow?”
Nan thought for a moment. “Some one who is false to his cause, his principles, isn’t it?”
“That is about it, I should suppose. What are my principles, then, my cause?”
“Your profession, for one thing.”