"Certainly," he said with alacrity, "if you would like to hear it. Would you care to hear me repeat the Greek first?"
"Oh, of all things. I do not think I have ever heard Greek."
John cleared his throat and began, glancing at his hostess rather nervously from time to time. But his memory never failed him, and he went on to the end without a break or hesitation.
"How do you think it sounds?" he asked timidly when he had finished.
"It sounds very funny," said Mrs. Goddard. "I had no idea Greek sounded like that—but it has a pleasant rhythm."
"That is the thing," said John, enthusiastically. "I see you really appreciate it. Of course nobody knows how the ancients pronounced Greek, and if one pronounced it as the moderns do, it would sound all wrong—but the rhythm is the thing, you know. It is impossible to get over that."
Mrs. Goddard was not positively sure what he meant by "getting over the rhythm;" possibly John himself could not have defined his meaning very clearly. But his cheeks glowed and he was very much pleased.
"Yes, of course," said Mrs. Goddard confidently. "But what does it all mean, Mr. Short?"
"Would you really like to know?" asked John in fresh embarrassment. He suddenly realised how wonderfully delightful it was to be repeating his own poetry to the woman for whom it was written.
"Indeed yes—what is the use of your telling me all sorts of things in
Greek, if you do not tell me what they mean?"