"I've been in Munich often. I've never been here."
"My word! Haven't you really? Wish I could say the same. I'm always bein' dragged——"
"Why do you go if you don't care about it?"
"Can't think—always askin' myself. Why do half the Johnnies go? And yet in a way I like some sorts o' music."
"What kind of music?"
"Sittin' in the dark, in a room, with someone just strokin' the piano up and down—just strokin' it—not hammerin' it. I don't care what the old tune is——"
Rachel laughed a little, but said nothing. Of course, she thought him the most thundering kind of fool, and this made him eager to display to her his wisdom and common sense.
But he could say nothing. There followed the most awkward silence. She did not try to help him, but sat there quietly looking in front of her.
Suddenly she said: "Uncle Richard, I want to see your fans again. I haven't seen them for a long time. I know you've added some lately. Sir Roderick, have you ever seen my uncle's fans?"
"No," he said. "I'd be delighted——"