He looked at her enquiringly.
“Do you know anything of her suitors?” he asked. “I have been in Italy for some years, and so came in contact with none of them.”
“You did not put any question to her on the subject on your return?”
Once again he lapsed into the habit of shrugging, which he had acquired abroad.
“My dear madam,” said he, “I was not sufficiently interested in the matter to put any question to her touching so indifferent a topic. But now that I come to think of it, I fancy she did say something to me about love being—being—being something that deserved—— Let me see, was it the word ‘attention’ that she employed? No, consideration; I believe that was the word. Yes, she said that she had considered the question of love.”
“And with what result, sir? I protest that you interest me greatly,” said Mrs. Abington. And indeed she had now become quite interested in this boy with the large eyes so full of varying expression.
“Alas! madam, this is the point at which my treacherous memory fails me,” said he, after a little pause.
“Ah, is not that a pity, seeing that the point was one that promised to be of interest?” said Mrs. Abington.
“I am afraid that I was not interested, madam,” said he. “If she had come to me with the result of her consideration of Mozart’s additional instrumental parts to Messiah I feel sure that I would remember every word; but—— I wonder what view you take of the instrumental parts introduced by Mozart, Mrs. Abington? I should like to have your opinion on this subject.”