“Quite sure.”
“Well, you’re wrong, anyway,” She laughed defiantly. “I didn’t forget about my audience a bit: I kept on remembering them the whole time. I kept on thinking: !Did they notice that little bit? ... I polished off that arpeggio rather nicely; I wonder if anybody noticed it....’ And as for throwing my whole soul into my music, I’m not so sure—whether—even—whether——”
“Yes?”
She tossed back her head so that her hair danced like flame. The bus jerked to a standstill.
“Whether I’ve got a soul,” she said very quickly. “Come on, we’re at High Wood.”
They clambered down the steps.
“I’m sure you have,” he said, as he helped her off the conductor’s platform.
“Oh, you don’t know anything about me,” she snapped, as they entered the footpath through the Forest.
“I believe I know a very great deal about you,” he said quietly.
“Of course you believe so. Well, I don’t mind you telling me.”