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Updated: September 18, 2025
In one wicker-chair the wicker daubed with royal-red enamel lay a banjo; in another was curled a sleeping terrier indubitable mother of the puppy outside. Near the door stood a piano with a comic opera score on the music-rest, open at No. 12, "I'm a Cheery Fusileery O!" and on its rosewood top an ash-tray full of cigarette-ends and a shaded lamp the base of which needed wiping.
He looked up and distinctly saw that sharp foxy expression cross Lucia's face, which from long knowledge of her he knew to betoken that she had thought of some new plan. But she did not choose to reveal it and re-erected the music-rest. "That will do beautifully," she said. "And now for our heavenly Mozart. You must be patient with me, Georgie, for you know how badly I read. Caro!
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