“Darling,” he said; “something has made you unhappy. What is it?”
“Tell me, Angelo, and truly; is your violin like other violins?”
This unexpected question came so suddenly he could not control his agitation.
“Why do you ask?” he said.
“You must answer me directly!”
“No, Mildred; my violin is different from any other I have ever seen,” this hesitatingly and with great effort at composure.
“In what way is it different?” she almost demanded.
“It is peculiarly constructed; it has an extra string. But why this sudden interest in the violin? Let us talk of you, of me, of both, of our future,” said he with enforced cheerfulness.
“No, we will talk of the violin. Of what use is the extra string?”
“None whatever,” was the quick reply.