round at me—then looked back again at her music.
“Won’t you take your old place?” she said, speaking very abruptly and in very low tones.
“I may take it on the last night,” I answered.
She did not reply—she kept her attention riveted on the music— music which she knew by memory, which she had played over and over again, in former times, without the book. I only knew that she had heard me, I only knew that she was aware of my being close to her,
round at me—then looked back again at her music.
“Won’t you take your old place?” she said, speaking very abruptly and in very low tones.
“I may take it on the last night,” I answered.
She did not reply—she kept her attention riveted on the music— music which she knew by memory, which she had played over and over again, in former times, without the book. I only knew that she had heard me, I only knew that she was aware of my being close to her,
