"Yes, but-"
"Sit down at the piano;" Rich instructed softly. "You are happy, my dear. Very happy. Play something. Sing or hum it as you do, to show us you are happy."
Something was wrong again. Vicky's fingers rested on the keys of the piano. The piano was in gloom; Vicky's back was turned to them some distance away. Yet she seemed to be struggling with herself.
"I command you, my dear. Play anything. Any—"
The piano tinkled, and its keys ran softly.
"Drink to me only with thine eyes,
And I will pledge with mine;
Or leave a kiss within the cup,
And I’ll not ask for wine… The thirst—"
The voice, which had been trying to hum raggedly, broke off in a sob.