"Do you like my singing?"
"Very much."
So he idled for another half hour at the piano, recalling half-forgotten melodies of the Age of Faith, which, like all art of that immortal age, can never again be revived. For art alone was not enough in those days, the creator of the beautiful was also endowed with Faith; all the world was so endowed; and it was such an audience as never again can gather to inspire any maker of beautiful things.
Quarren came up to listen; Jessie prepared tea; and the last golden hour of the afternoon drifted away to the untroubled harmonies of other days.
Later, Jessie, halting on the steps to draw on her gloves, heard Dankmere open the door behind her and come out.
They descended the steps together, and she was already turning north with a nod of good-night, when he said:
"Are you walking?"
She was, to save carfare.
"May I go a little way?"
"Yes—if——"