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Wells, H. G. (Herbert George), 1866-1946

"Tono Bungay"


Understand?"
I turned over the pages without any effect on her playing.
"When?" I asked.
She dealt in chords. "I wish I COULD play this!" she said. "Midnight."
She gave her attention to the music for a time.
"You may have to wait."
"I'll wait."
She brought her playing to an end by--as school boys say--"stashing it
up."
"I can't play to-night," she said, standing up and meeting my eyes. "I
wanted to give you a parting voluntary."
"Was that Wagner, Beatrice?" asked Lady Osprey looking up from her
cards. "It sounded very confused."
I took my leave. I had a curious twinge of conscience as I parted from
Lady Osprey. Either a first intimation of middle-age or my inexperience
in romantic affairs was to blame, but I felt a very distinct objection
to the prospect of invading this good lady's premises from the garden
door. I motored up to the pavilion, found Cothope reading in bed,
told him for the first time of West Africa, spent an hour with him in
settling all the outstanding details of Lord Roberts B, and left that
in his hands to finish against my return.


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