"Listen to this," I said, and began to read to her from the book I held in my hands. I read a longish bit.
She tried to interrupt me several times, and at length said impatiently:
"What is this you want me to listen to?"
"The Musketeers. You must admit it's entertaining."
"I've read it," she said. And then she began to clasp her hands and drag them apart again.
"Then you must hear something you haven't read before," I replied, and went across to my room to fetch a few pages I had written. They were only a few poems--nothing special, just a few small verses. Not that I am in the habit of reading such things aloud, but I seized on this for the moment because I wanted to prevent her from humbling herself, and telling me anything more.
While I was reading the poems to her, the actor returned.
"I couldn't find any galoshes there," he said.
"No?" she replied absently.
"No, I really looked everywhere, but...."