"We all go through it at some time," said Finsen, "and it's best to get it over at the beginning. So I congratulate you, old fellow, and now to business. I'm managing here--managing for a syndicate. Under four eyes, as we say in Iceland, I intend to give a series of concerts and I'm looking out for fresh material. You compose?"
"Used to do," said Oscar.
"I understand," said Finsen. "Your life has been off the tracks lately and you'll not write much more that's worth anything until you get back into the groove. But I know what you used to do and that's good enough for me. I heard some of your songs from the Sagas, you remember, and I don't mind saying that as the work of a man who was nearly self-taught in the matter of harmony I thought them wonderful. But Helga tells me--Helga Neilsen, I mean, I hear from her occasionally----"
Oscar flinched as if a lash had cut him.
"Helga tells me," continued Finsen, "that you did some things in Iceland last year that beat your Saga songs to little bits, and if you think we can try them here----"
"They're gone," said Oscar.
"I know," said Finsen. "I've heard what has become of them. But perhaps you have copies?"
"Not a copy," said Oscar.
"Or perhaps you can remember some of them?"
"Not one."