"Would he mind your bringing him to see me some day? I want to know him."
Nina's face drew back as if Laura had struck her. Its haggard, smitten look spoke as if Nina had spoken. "What do you want to know him for?" it said.
"He hasn't got to be seen," said Nina herself savagely. She was overwrought. "He's got to be heard. You've heard him."
"It's because I've heard him that I want to see him."
Nina paused in her ferocious stride and glanced at the little thing. The small face of her friend had sunk from its ecstasy to its sullen suffering, its despondency, its doubt.
Nina was stung by compassion.
"Do you want to see him very much?" she said.
"I wouldn't ask you if I didn't."
"All right. You shall. I'll make him come."