Fritzie came back. "I can't find the music anywhere."
Kimberly rose to go to the music room. "No matter," he persisted, "sing anything you can remember, Mrs. MacBirney--just sing."
It seemed easier, as it always seemed when Kimberly persisted, to consent than to decline. Alice sang an English ballad. Then a scrap--all she could remember--of a Moskowski song; then an Italian ballad. Kimberly leaned on the piano.
"Do you like any of those?" asked Alice with her hands running over the keys.
"All of them. But what was the last?"
"An Italian air."
"Yes, I remember it--in Italy. Sing it again, will you?"
"Tell me about that song," he said when she had repeated it. "It is lovely."
"I don't know much. It is a very old song."
"Have I ever told you about a villa on Lago Maggiore?"