"I thought you were so fond of music"—Lois said apologetically.
"Yes," he said, smiling. "That keeps me away."
"I thought,"—said Lois,—"I thought they said the music was so good?"
"I have no doubt they say it. And they mean it honestly."
"And it is not?"
"I find it quite too severe a tax on my powers of simulation and dissimulation. Those are powers you never call in play?" he added, with a most pleasant smile and glance at her.
"Simulation and dissimulation?" repeated Lois, who had by no means got her usual balance of mind or manner yet. "Are those powers which ought to be called into play?"
"What are you going to do?"
"When?"
"When, for instance, you are in the mood for a grand theme of Handel, and somebody gives you a sentimental bit of Rossini. Or when Mendelssohn is played as if 'songs without words' were songs without meaning. Or when a singer simply displays to you a VOICE, and leaves music out of the question altogether."