"I heard you singing," he said, by way of opening the conversation.
"Yes, I have to sing every night for practice," she said quickly. She wished him to understand clearly that she had not been singing to bring him.
She sat on the piano bench, but with her back to the piano and her hands in her lap. Her expression was not encouraging. Evan sat on the sofa.
"Please go on," he said. "Don't mind me."
"No," she said, with her funny little downright way. "I shan't sing any more."
"But why?"
"You have provoked me. I can't sing when I am provoked."
"What have I done?"
"The mere sight of you provokes me," she said with more frankness, probably, than she intended.
"I'm sorry," said Evan. "You're so different, so unusual, I don't know how to handle you."