He purposely kept her there, playing piece after piece, until she was really wearied.
And then when she rose from the instrument he took the lead in the conversation, and would talk of nothing but music, musicians, and composers until the clock struck eleven. Then he suddenly said:
“My little girl it is late, and you are tired; go to bed at once. I have letters to write that will detain me an hour or so. When I have finished them I will come up.”
“Alick, dear, letters to write so late to-night when you have to start so early to-morrow?”
“Yes, little Drusa.”
“Why didn’t you write them earlier in the evening, then?”
“Because I wanted to enjoy every moment of your company while you sat up, Drusa, and I knew I could write them after you had retired,” he artfully replied.
“But I had rather not leave you at all this last evening, Alick. I will sit very quietly near you and not interrupt you the least while you write your letters.”
“But I will not permit you to do so, Drusa. You are pale with want of rest even now; and you will make a point of getting up to-morrow morning even sooner than I shall—I know you will.”
“I must, Alick dear, to see that you have a good breakfast ready in time to eat it leisurely before you go.”