"Yes."
"How glorious! I wish some one would surprise me that way!"
Left alone, Richard walked round and round staring at the shining rosewood and the gleaming keys. He had expected—he almost laughed aloud as he remembered—an upright piano of a poor make, covered with a velvet cover laden with vases and photographs. Thus was the Scott piano decorated. And here was really a grand piano, and the best grand piano that could be bought! If he might only play it!
Eleanor found him walking about. She held out her hand, like her mother all excitement and friendliness. She still wore her beautiful embroidered dress, full in the skirt and low in the neck. Her hair was ruffled and her eyes more than ever brilliant.
There were no introductory explanations. Richard forgot to say why he had come, never explained, indeed, until long afterward when together, as is the custom of those in like case, they made each impulse, each trivial incident of their association the subject of conversation.
"It hasn't been touched," said Eleanor. "When I saw it I forgot how to play!"
"Does Miss Thomasina know about it?"
"She selected it in Baltimore. She had known about it for weeks and I knew nothing. It doesn't seem as though it could be real. Will you, oh, will you play it first?"
Richard turned pale once more.