"I don't like to be alone."
"But anyone would do?—a dog?"
No reply.
"You mean, a dog would be better because it doesn't ask questions to which it knows the answer."
No reply.
"Well, I have a pleasant-sounding voice. As I'm saying nothing, it may be soothing—like the sound of the waves. I've learned to take you as you are. I rather like your pose."
No reply. No sign that he was even tempted to rise to this bait and protest.
"But you don't like mine," she went on. "Yes, it is a pose. But I've got to keep it up, and to pretend to myself that it isn't. And it isn't altogether. I shall be a successful singer."
"When?" said he. Actually he was listening!
She answered: "In—about two years, I think."