But the very strength of his love made it a little cruel sometimes, he demanded almost too much of her and she could not always understand or be patient with it.
And now there was a cloud gathering on the domestic sky, and Dot with astonishing blindness thought it was a new, wonderful sun that was going to cast a warm, beautiful light over everything again.
‘Oh, what will Larrie say?’ she exclaimed in a fit of eager, childlike pleasure one afternoon when she had sung the ‘Jewel Song,’ in a way that even Wooster, carping critic as he was, could pronounce none other than perfect.
He looked at her tenderly, he nearly always said ‘dear little girl’ to himself when she was like that.
‘I think he will say he could not be prouder [p 80] ]of his wife than he is,’ he answered. ‘When shall you tell him?’
‘Oh, not yet,’ Dot said. ‘Not yet on any account, electric shocks are the salt of life. Imagine his face when I lay the programme before him, “The Jewel Song—Mrs—Lawrence—Armitage.”’ Her eyes sparkled, she gave one of her happy little laughs. ‘How I wish the battery was ready!’
Wooster was standing in the window looking absently out.
He had a clear cut face, ascetic would describe it, only women novelists are credited with adoring that word. It was not the face of a musician at all, at least it had not the liquid dreaming eyes, and wide, massive, brow framed in wavy hair that we conjure up generally when we speak of a musician’s face. It was monkish rather, the lips were clean shaved and somewhat severe, the hair very short and dark, and the eyes just now merely thoughtful. They were brown in colour, almost black on occasion, and had perhaps even more variety of expression than most [p 81] ]people’s eyes. In figure he was rather below the average height but he bore himself easily. ‘I would rather you spoke to your husband, Mrs Armitage, before the programmes are printed,’ he said, unconsciously making chords with his fingers on the window ledge. It had occurred to him that perhaps it was rather a bold step for his pupil to be contemplating a public appearance without her husband’s knowledge.
‘Not for any consideration,’ Dot said with great decision. ‘All I am living for is the programme surprise. He shall know two days before the concert, not a second sooner.’
Wooster played a chromatic scale with his thumb and second finger till he found the dust on the ledge made them unclean. He pocketed them and turned round.