"When you come to see me I should like to show you some of my things. You will come to see me when you are in London… when you have a moment?"
"Evelyn always keeps her promises," he said to himself, and he did not give up hope that she would come to see him, although nearly two weeks went by without his hearing from her. Then a note came, saying that she had been kept busy and had not been able to find spare time, but yesterday a pupil had written saying she would not come to her lesson, "so now I can come to you."
"Miss Innes, Sir Owen."
His face lighted up, and laying his book aside he sprang out of his chair, and all consciousness of time ceased in his mind till she began to put on her glove.
"You have only just arrived, and already you are going."
"My dear Owen, I have been here an hour, and the time has passed quickly for you because you have been playing your music over for me and I have been singing… humming, for it is hardly singing now."
"I am sorry, Evelyn, the time has seemed so long to you. I didn't intend to bore you. You said you would like to see some of my music."
"So I did, Owen, and some of the best things you have composed are among those you have shown me. Your writing has improved a great deal."
"I am so glad you think so. When will you come again?"
"The first spare hour."