"I won't forget. I was sorry to see that Miss Nippett is so unwell."
"It's most unfortunate; it so interferes with the evening classes."
"But she may get well soon."
"I fear not."
"Really?" asked Mavis, genuinely concerned for her friend's health.
"It's a great pity. Accompanists like her are hard to find. Besides, she was well acquainted with all the many ramifications of the academy."
Mavis recalled that, in the old days of her association with "Poulter's," she had noticed that otherwise kindly Mr Poulter took Miss Nippett's body and soul loyalty to him quite as a matter of course. Time, apparently, had not caused him to think otherwise of the faithful accompanist than as a once capable but now failing machine.
Mr Poulter asked Mavis what had happened to her since he had last seen her. She told him the fiction of her marriage; it hurt her to see how glibly the lie now fell from her lips.
After Mr Poulter had congratulated her and her absent husband, he said:
"I fear you would not care to undertake any accompanying."