‘Play what you were playing last night.’
‘How do you know what I was playing last night?’
‘I was on the river and I heard you.’
‘Did you?’ He was flattered. It touched his imagination to think of himself playing out into the night to invisible listeners.
‘All alone, were you?’ He looked her over with alert interest.
‘Oh yes. I said to myself: that must be Mr. Fyfe playing.’
He laughed.
‘You know, you were monstrous.’
‘Not at all. It was you. You defied me to pretend I’d ever known you.’
‘Nonsense. I was looking forward to you. Last time was—When? Centuries ago.’