"I may get it back," said Mildred.
"That never happens," replied he. "But I can almost do it."
He coached her for half an hour straight ahead, sending the next pupil into the adjoining room—an unprecedented transgression of routine. He showed her for the first time what a teacher he could be, when he wished. There was an astonishing difference between her first singing of the song and her sixth and last—for they went through it carefully five times. She thanked him and then put out her hand, saying:
"This is a long good-by."
"To-morrow," replied he, ignoring her hand.
"No. My money is all gone. Besides, I have no time for amateur trifling."
"Your lessons are paid for until the end of the month. This is only the nineteenth."
"Then you are so much in." Again she put out her hand.
He took it. "You owe me an explanation."
She smiled mockingly. "As a friend of mine says, don't ask questions to which you already know the answer."