"A question of identity is disturbing me. I'm still hearing a certain song—I think I can never forget it. Are you by any chance the singer?"
"As it happens, I sang a little this afternoon."
"Then the finest thing in the world has happened."
"Did I do pretty well?"
"Pretty well? Hmmm!" he considered the matter judicially. "Yes, I think I may safely say that."
She laughed as though he had been very witty, then quickly became grave.
"Were you thinking hard for me at the first, when I almost fizzled?"
"The hardest I knew how. I was afraid you were losing your nerve."
"I was. I never was so scared in my life. It came over me all at once that the next few minutes would probably decide everything for me, and I could see only strangers—critical strangers who wouldn't care. Then I saw you sitting back there and—and then I could sing. Thank you for coming."
"You're quite welcome, I'm sure." He laughed at her thanks. "Did you think for a minute that I could stay away? And are you aware that we have never shaken hands? It is really high time. Would you mind?"