“Oh, I suppose you’d hang about.”
“I’m much too well brought up.”
“Rebecca has lighted the hall lamp.”
“Yes, it’s grown quite dark. I was here early. You never gave me a good word for it.”
“I didn’t notice. There’s a light in the dining-room, we’ll go there.”
They went into the dining-room. She stood by the piano and carefully took off the wrap. Then she wandered listlessly about the room for a minute.
“Aren’t you coming to sit down?” he said, pointing to the seat on the couch beside him.
“Not just now,” she said, trailing aimlessly to the piano. She sat down and began to play at random, from memory. Then she did that most irritating thing—played accompaniments to songs, with snatches of the air where the voice should have predominated.
“I say Lettie, . . .” he interrupted after a time.
“Yes,” she replied, continuing to play.