Phil lingered, her hand on the knob.
"Come over yourself, after tea. There may be music. Daddy keeps his 'cello over there, you know."
"His 'cello?"
It seemed that 'cello, like tea, was a word of deep significance. Amzi glared at Phil, who raised her head and laughed.
"Nonsense!" he ejaculated, though it was not clear just wherein the nonsense lay.
"Oh, your old flute is over there, too," said Phil, not without scorn.
Having launched this she laughed again and the door closed upon her with a bang. She hammered the glass with her knuckles to attract his attention, flung back her head as she laughed again, and vanished.
Amzi stared at the door's rain-splashed pane. The world was empty now that Phil had gone. He drew down the shabby green blind with a jerk and prepared to go home.