‘Yes. She should be with me.’
‘She wants music. She wants—poor girl! let her have what comes to her.’
Their thoughts beneath their speech were like fish darting under shadow of the traffic bridge.
‘She loves music,’ said Carinthia; ‘it is almost life to her, like fresh air to me. Next month I am in London; Lady Arpington is kind. She will give me as much of their polish as I can take. I dare say I should feel the need of it if I were an enlightened person.’
‘For instance, did I hear “Owain,” when your Welsh friend was leaving?’ Chillon asked.
‘It was his dying wife’s wish, brother.’
‘Keep to the rules, dear.’
‘They have been broken, Chillon.’
‘Mend them.’
‘That would be a step backward.’