He had also heard on the
other side of the screen, that Langholm was the novelist referred to in
a paragraph which had of course had a special interest for him; and, as
was only fair, Langholm was interrogated in his turn. What was less
fair, and indeed ungrateful in a marked degree, was the way in which the
original questioner parried all questions put to himself; and he very
soon left the club. On his way out, he went into the writing-room, and,
tearing into little pieces a letter which he had written that
afternoon, left the fragments behind him in the waste-paper basket.
His exit from the room was meanwhile producing its sequel in a little
incident which would have astonished Langholm considerably. Severino had
been playing for nearly an hour on end, had seemed thoroughly engrossed
in his own fascinating performance, and quite oblivious of the dining
and smoking going on around him according to the accepted ease and
freedom of the club. Yet no sooner was Langholm gone than the pianist
broke off abruptly and joined the group which the other had deserted.
"Who is that fellow?" said Severino, in English so perfect that the
slight Italian accent only added a charm to his gentle voice.
Pages:
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265