"I never play to any one ... except Rob, who, being a Scots Covenanter, disapproves on principle."
"I call that selfish. It's such a rare treat to hear a man play well. I was delighted when you began. I thought pianos were unheard of up here."
"Well, ... they are hardly a legitimate item in a Frontier officer's equipment! This one was ... my mother's," he laid a hand on the instrument, as though it had been the shoulder of a friend. "The fellows sat upon me, I assure you, when I brought it out. Told me it was worse than a wife. But I've carried my point, ... wife and all. And now, perhaps you will reward me,—if I haven't been too ungracious to deserve it?"
He whisked away his solitary photo, and opened the piano.
"How do you know I play?" she asked, smiling. She liked his impetuosity of movement and speech.
"I don't know. I guessed it last night. You carry it in your head?"
"Yes; most of it."
"Real music? The big chaps?"
"Very little else, I'm afraid."