has perhaps a dignity, you know. Ah, you are too fresh from your
baptism,' I continued, as she shook her head and went to the piano.
The quality, whatever it was, that the last fortnight had generated
in her, leaped from her fingers; she played with triumph, elation,
intention. The notes seemed an outlet for the sense of beauty and
for power to make it. I had never heard her play like that before.

It occurred to me to ask when she had done, how far, after a
fortnight, she could throw light on Armour's aims and history, where
he had come from, and the great query with which we first received
him, what he could be doing in Simla. I gathered that she had
learned practically nothing, and had hardly concerned herself to
learn anything. What difference did it make? she asked me. Why
should we inquire? Why tack a theory of origin to a phenomenon of
joy? Let us say the wind brought him, and build him a temple. She
was very whimsical up to the furthest stretch of what could possibly
be considered tea-time. When I went away I saw her go again and sit
down at the piano. In the veranda I remembered something, stopped,
and went back. I had to go back. 'You did not tell me,' I said,
'when he was coming again.'

'Oh, tomorrow--tomorrow, of course,' Dora paused to reply.

I resented, as I made my way to the Club, the weight of official
duties that made it so impossible for me to keep at all closely in
touch with this young man.



Chapter 2.V.