MRS. FARRANT. I won't play for a moment longer than I feel musical.

MISS TREBELL. Do you think it right, Julia, to finish with that after an
hour's Bach?

MRS. FARRANT. I suddenly came over Chopinesque, Fanny; ... what's your
objection? [_as she sits by her._]

FRANCES TREBELL. What ... when Bach has raised me to the heights of
unselfishness!

AMY O'CONNELL. [_Grimacing sweetly, her eyes only half lifted._] Does he?
I'm glad that I don't understand him.

FRANCES TREBELL. [_Putting mere prettiness in its place._] One may prefer
Chopin when one is young.

AMY O'CONNELL. And is that a reproach or a compliment?

WALTER KENT. [_Boldly._] I do.

FRANCES TREBELL. Or a man may ... unless he's a philosopher.

LADY DAVENPORT. [_To the rescue._] Miss Trebell, you're very hard on mere
humanity.

FRANCES TREBELL. [_Completing the reproof._] That's my wretched training as
a schoolmistress, Lady Davenport ... one grew to fear it above all things.

LUCY DAVENPORT. [_Throwing in the monosyllable with sharp youthful