Hither. “What I mean is, that people sing a song, or run races, or preach a sermon, or do something funny at a picnic—aw—somebody gets up and does something.”
Lady Bar. “Then perhaps Miss Vere, whose singing is famous, will have the complaisance to sing to us.”
Miss Vere. “I should be happy, Lady Barbara, but I have not brought my music.”
Lady Bar. “Oh, we are not critical; the simplest air, or even a fragment of melody; the sea and the sky will be a better accompaniment than Broadwood ever made.”
Miss V. “I can't sing a note without book.”
Sir H. Talbot. “Your music is in your soul—not at your fingers' ends.”
Lord Ipsden, to Lady Bar. “It is in her book, and not in her soul.”
Lady Bar., to Lord Ips. “Then it has chosen the better situation of the two.”
Ips. “Miss Vere is to the fine art of music what the engrossers are to the black art of law; it all filters through them without leaving any sediment; and so the music of the day passes through Miss Vere's mind, but none remains—to stain its virgin snow.”
He bows, she smiles.