“Colonel Richardson understands music.”
“While we understand only drinking and fighting; that is what you mean, isn’t it?”
“Oh, no, it is not! You understand a great many things which I know nothing about—how to tease a person to death, for instance,” said she, with weary petulance.
“That is unkind,” said George, quietly. “Never mind; I won’t reproach you now, when you are tired and excited by your own playing.”
She looked up at him with some surprise.
“It is astonishing that such a boor as I should have noticed that, isn’t it, and that I should know the difference between the half-mechanical playing of pretty tunes and music full of passion and feeling, like that you gave Colonel Richardson to-night.”
“I did not know you liked music,” said she, in a low, troubled voice.
“You never took the trouble to inquire; did you? But even among the ‘semi-civilized’—to quote some words I heard you use to-night—there may be capabilities for something better, may there not?”
Annie hung her head in confusion. He spoke quite gently, and looked down at her as if he were hurt, not angry.
“I am sorry—I spoke without thinking,” she said, in an unsteady voice. “You were right; I am very tired, and that makes me cross and—and foolish. But I won’t play mechanically to you again. I will find out what you like best, and learn to play that as well as I possibly can; and I’m so sorry you were hurt by my rude speech!”