“Really!” said Nugent, without appearing to notice my elaborate Americanisms. “And is your experiment successful so far?” He looked me full in the face as he spoke.
“Yes, so far,” I answered, with an unexplainable feeling that sincerity was required of me, and noting inwardly the blue impenetrability of his eyes.
He said nothing for a minute or two; then, without any apparent connection of ideas—
“Is Willy corning home to hear us play?” he asked. “Have you taught him to appreciate high-class music yet?”
“I don’t think he wants any teaching,” I said, with an instinctive wish to stand up for my cousin; “he has a wonderful ear, and his taste is really very good.”
“Really!” in an uninterested voice.
“Yes,” I said positively; “I believe he has a real talent for music, if he had only been given a chance.”
“He did not get much of a chance at anything, I believe,” Nugent said, in what seemed to me a patronizing way.
“No, he certainly did not. I think very few people know all the disadvantages he has had, and I am quite sure that very few people would have done as well as he has if they had been in his place.” This with some warmth.
“I am sure I shouldn’t, for one,” replied Nugent, quietly taking to himself the generality which I had thought both telling and impalpable. “But then, I dare say—— Why, there he is!” interrupting himself, as we turned into the avenue and came in sight of Willy, who was walking very fast towards home.