"Eh? Oh, yes. I don't know much about perspective and things. You'll have to talk that artist talk to our friend Hilary back there. I know when I like a picture, but when it comes to stuff like perspective and atmosphere I'm not in it."
"But you do like music, opera, for example," said Gwen, feeling around for a mental point of contact.
"Certainly I like opera. It's awfully jolly to see all the ladies in their pretty clothes and to go around to the different boxes between acts."
"But the music."
"When it isn't too heavy. I like a ripping good singer who gives you a high note that makes you nearly jump out of your seat. It's exciting to hear how high she will go, and some of the airs run in my head for hours, that one that Caruso sings for example." He began to whistle "La donna é mobile."
Gwen gave a deep sigh. "And how about the Wagner operas?"
"Can't stand them. I went to hear Lohengrin once, and came out before the last act. I leave out Aida now, too. The good old-timers suit me, old Trovatore and Martha, and some of the new ones aren't bad, the ones with catchy music."
"You didn't like Aida?" Gwen fairly groaned.
"Bored me to death. Could hardly sit through it. I wouldn't have, only the ladies I was with appeared to like it, so I stayed on their account."
Gwen made no comment but opened the book she had brought, a copy of Kipling. She had considered his masculine taste in making the selection. "Now I'll read you my favorite 'Bell Buoy' right here where we can get the sound of one. 'White Horses' is really my favorite, but it is not in this volume. I'll read first and then you can pick out something to read to me."