'I'm very thirsty. Will you take me down?'
His heart leapt with pleasure; Alma must have seen it in his eyes as he turned.
'What did Wilenski play?' he asked confusedly, as they moved towards the staircase.
'Something of Grieg's Mr. Wilbraham is going to sing "Wie bist du, meine Koniginn"—Brahms, you know. But you don't really care for music.'
'What an astounding accusation!'
'You don't really care for it. I've known that since we were at Leipzig.'
'I have never pretended to appreciate music as you do. That needs education, and something more. Some music wearies me, there's no denying it.'
'You like the Melody in F?'
'Yes, I do.'
Alma laughed, with superiority, but not ill-naturedly.