"Yetta," Elkan began, "I think you seen Mr. Merech before—ain't it?"
Mrs. Lubliner smiled and extended her hand.
"How do you do, Mr. Merech?" she said; and Max bowed awkwardly.
"Mr. Kammerman," Elkan continued, "this is our designer, Max Merech; and I could assure you, Mr. Kammerman, a very good one too. He's got a great eye for colour."
"And a good ear for music," Milton added as Kammerman shook the blushing dilettante by the hand.
"In fact, Mr. Kammerman, if he has got such taste in designing as he is showing in music," Milton went on, "he must be a wonder! Nothing suits him but the best. And now, if you will excuse me, I'll get Volkovisk he should play you his sonata."
He left the table with his leather portfolio under his arm, and for more than five minutes he held an earnest consultation with Volkovisk and the cellist, after which he returned smiling to his seat.
"First Volkovisk plays his sonata, 'Opus 30,'" he explained, "and then he would do a little thing of my own."
He nodded briskly to Volkovisk, and Kammerman settled himself resignedly to a hearing of what he anticipated would be a commonplace piece of music. After the first six measures, however, he sat up straight in his chair and his face took on an expression of wonder and delight. Then, resting his elbow on the table, he nursed his cheek throughout the first movement in a posture of earnest attention.
"Why," he cried as the musician paused, "this man is a genius!"