Then a note came, saying
that she had been kept busy and had not been able to find spare time,
but yesterday a pupil had written saying she would not come to her
lesson, "so now I can come to you."
"Miss Innes, Sir Owen."
His face lighted up, and laying his book aside he sprang out of his
chair, and all consciousness of time ceased in his mind till she
began to put on her glove.
"You have only just arrived, and already you are going."
"My dear Owen, I have been here an hour, and the time has passed
quickly for you because you have been playing your music over for me
and I have been singing... humming, for it is hardly singing now."
"I am sorry, Evelyn, the time has seemed so long to you. I didn't
intend to bore you. You said you would like to see some of my music."
"So I did, Owen, and some of the best things you have composed are
among those you have shown me. Your writing has improved a great
deal."
"I am so glad you think so. When will you come again?"
"The first spare hour."
"Really? You promise."
They saw each other at intervals. Sometimes the intervals were very
long, and Owen would write to her complaining, and he would get a
note telling that her time was not her own, and that a great deal of
money was necessary for her boys.
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