“I thought it was finished.”
“No. That’s what I wanted to consult your father about. Maybe I should leave it with just a piano accompaniment since that’s pretty well worked out and the accompanist plays it well.”
For one bleak moment Judy regretted she hadn’t touched the piano all summer. If she had, maybe—Aloud she said brightly, “I hear your accompanist is not only beautiful, but plays like an angel!”
Karl looked puzzled. “I don’t know what you’re driving at. Marie Hoeffer is a fine young lady but she’s no Rubinstein, if that’s what you mean.”
Judy smiled her skepticism.
“She came to Aspen for a summer of music,” Karl went on, “but I guess she’s chiefly concerned with having a good time,” he laughed good-naturedly.
Judy knitted her brows. A serious musician one might respect. But for someone to come to Aspen under the cloak of music deliberately to waylay and ensnare a boy like Karl, that was a more serious matter!
The men were tuning their instruments and in the jangle of sounds she remained silent. But her curiosity was sorely tried. How old was she? Where did she come from? If from California or Maine or Alaska, all was not lost! She would have to go back to those remote places—
“I hear she’s quite ancient,” Judy said at last, her voice drooling sweetness.
Before Karl could gather up his forces to reply, Mrs. Lurie came into the room. She looked beautiful but terribly pale.