"I suppose Sunday wouldn't suit you?"
Edwin challenged him almost fiercely:
"Why won't it suit us? It will suit us first-class."
Ingpen merely said, with quiet delicacy:
"So much the better.... We might go all through the Mozart fiddle sonatas."
"And who's your violinist?" asked Johnnie.
"I am, if you don't mind." Ingpen smiled. "If your sister will take the piano part."
Hilda exclaimed admiringly:
"Do you play the violin, too, Mr. Ingpen?"
"I scrape it. Also the tenor. But my real instrument is the clarinet." He laughed. "It seems odd," he went on with genuine scientific unegotistic interest in himself. "But d'you know I thoroughly enjoy playing the clarinet in a bad orchestra whenever I get the chance. When I happen to have a free evening I often wish I could drop in at a theatre and play rotten music in the band. It's better than nothing. Some of us are born mad."