“L’Apres-Midi D’Un Faun.”
“What?”
“L’Apres-Midi D’Un Faun. It’s French. Listen!”
She shakes her head briskly as you turn the record over, and starts to talk. Motion to her to be quiet, and play the second part. She speaks drowsily.
“It’s very queer. It’s made me sleepy. Are you playing it again? For heaven’s sake, why?”
“Well,” you explain, “it always sounds better the second time.”
Listen to it again, with your hands clasped together. Lean over to her. “It’s a funny thing about that music. It gets me.” Kiss her.
“I know,” she says. “If I listened to it very long I wouldn’t be responsible.”
“Responsible for what?”
“Oh, just responsible.” Kiss her again. She stands up. “Let’s play something loud and get waked up.”