"Yes, that is very fine, Miss Dexie. The words are almost too pathetic, or
else you make them sound that way. But let us have the first piece; there
is something peculiar in it, I fancy," and he picked up some sheet music
from the stand and began to look it over.
"Hand it over, if you think you have found it, Mr. Traverse. I will play
anything you choose from that untidy mass," and there was an amused look in
her eyes as she watched the search. He was not likely to find what he
wanted amongst those promiscuous sheets.
"But I do not know it when I see it, Miss Dexie," he replied. "I am sure
you know what piece it is I refer to."
Dexie laughed at his bewildered expression; but as he looked at her, she
said in a low tone:
"Yes, I know what you mean, Mr. Traverse, but I do not play that piece for
everybody."
"Not for me, Miss Dexie?"
"No."
"What's all this about a piece of music, Dexie? I didn't come here to hear
you two quarrelling," and her father smiled over at them. "Let us have the
piece you were playing first, Dexie. It sounded fairly well, the little I
heard of it."
"Choose something else, papa.
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