“Ah’m thinkin’.”
XIV
Improvising at the piano, Piltzenhoffer, kiddy-grand, he was contented, happy. The creative fertility, bursting from a radiant heart, more than ordinary surprised him: “My most quickening affair, since—” he groped, smiling a little at several particular wraiths, more, or less, bizarre, that, in their time, had especially disturbed him. “Yes; probably!” he murmured, enigmatically, striking an intricate, virile chord.
“Forgib me, dearest! I was wid de manicu’ of de fingeh-nails.”
“Divine one.”
She stood before him.
Hovering there between self-importance and madcapery, she was exquisite quite.
“All temperament ...!” he murmured, capturing her deftly between his knees.