Bevis looked round to see the effect it produced upon her, and she could not meet his eyes.
'Quite a new sort of thing for me, Mrs.Widdowson.Does it strike you as so very bad ?' 'No--not at all.' 'But you can't honestly praise it ?' He sighed, in dejection.

'I meant to give you a copy.

I made this one specially for you, and--if you will forgive me--I have taken the liberty of dedicating it to you.
Songwriters do that, you know.

Of course it is altogether unworthy of your acceptance--' 'No--no--indeed I am very grateful to you, Mr.Bevis.Do give it to me--as you meant to.' 'You will have it ?' he cried delightedly.

'Now for a triumphal march!' Whilst he played, with look corresponding to the exultant strain, Monica rose from her chair.