He here allowed himself to sink friendlily into the vacant chair opposite Aaron's.
“Yes, I thought it was a bit exciting,” said Aaron. “I wonder what will become of him—”
“—Of the one who climbed for the flag, you mean? No!—But wasn't it perfectly marvellous! Oh, incredible, quite incredible!—And then your flute to finish it all! Oh! I felt it only wanted that.—I haven't got over it yet. But your playing was MARVELLOUS, really marvellous. Do you know, I can't forget it. You are a professional musician, of course.”
“If you mean I play for a living,” said Aaron. “I have played in orchestras in London.”
“Of course! Of course! I knew you must be a professional. But don't you give private recitals, too?”
“No, I never have.”
“Oh!” cried Francis, catching his breath. “I can't believe it. But you play MARVELLOUSLY! Oh, I just loved it, it simply swept me away, after that scene in the street. It seemed to sum it all up, you know.”
“Did it,” said Aaron, rather grimly.
“But won't you come and have coffee with us at our table?” said Francis. “We should like it most awfully if you would.”
“Yes, thank you,” said Aaron, half-rising.