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Updated: May 20, 2025
In the sitting room beyond the folded doors, a soft coloured rug carpet lay loosely on the floor. There were easy chairs there and a red lounge that promised softness; a square cloth-covered table; a whatnot in the corner; fancy shelves; a pretty walnut-wood piano, gilt lined, the cover thrown back, laden with music; on the music-stool a woman's cloak was lying, on the piano a woman's cap.
Mr Saltzburg swung round on the music-stool, a startled and apprehensive man, and nearly fell off it. The divine afflatus left him like air oozing from a punctured toy-balloon, and, like such a balloon, he seemed to grow suddenly limp and flat. He stared with fallen jaw at the new arrival. Two men had entered the room. One was the long Mr Pilkington.
It is sad to have all the love and all the mystery to oneself the other being the centre of the glory, and yet far beyond its outmost ring, sitting on a music-stool at a common piano old-fashioned and jingling, not in fairyland at all in fact, or even believing in its presence. But that night the moon was in a very genial humour, and gave her light plentiful and golden.
"You must lend me these, Basil," he cried. "I want to learn them. They are perfectly charming." "That entirely depends on how you sit to-day, Dorian." "Oh, I am tired of sitting, and I don't want a life-sized portrait of myself," answered the lad, swinging round on the music-stool, in a wilful, petulant manner.
They did not quarrel in Bostock's. Vera had caused it to be understood that even if Cheswardine was NOT interested in music, even if he did hate music and did call the Broadwood ebony grand ugly, that was no reason why she should be deprived of a pretty and original music-stool that would keep her music tidy and that would be HERS. As for it not going with the Chippendale, that was simply an excuse ... etc.
"Is it very diffy?" she asked. "Could I read it, Georgie? Shall I try?" She slid onto the music-stool. "Me to begin?" she asked, finding that Olga had opened the book at the salutation of Brunnhilde, which Lucia had practised so diligently all the morning. She got no answer. Olga standing by her, had assumed a perfectly different aspect.
At his question, Gracie turned on her music-stool and regarded him with surprise. "Why, of course you work," she said; "people all do." She was not acting a part. Her experience among poor people was limited to that outwardly respectable class who, however disreputable their conduct might be on Sabbath, had, nevertheless a Monday occupation with which they pretended to earn a living.
"Pray don't apologize," she said. "I think I understand that you are so good as to have come to see me. You look tired. Won't you take a chair?" Anne could stand no longer. She took the offered chair. Mrs. Glenarm resumed her place on the music-stool, and ran her fingers idly over the keys of the piano. "Where did you see Mr. Delamayn?" she went on.
As the last notes died away, Lancy turned on the music-stool and took her hand; Dexie's thoughts had been so engrossed that, for the moment, she let it rest there, when she heard the low-spoken words: "I want to tell you something, Dexie." Instantly Elsie's words flashed into her mind, and she tried to break away from the arm that encircled her waist. "Let me go, Lancy," was the startled cry.
The lover did not appear much discomposed, but sat quiet a little longer, and then, seating himself on the music-stool, drew it near to Caterina, and, taking her hand, said, 'Come, Tina, look kindly at me, and let us be friends. I shall always be your friend. 'Thank you, said Caterina, drawing away her hand. 'You are very generous. But pray move away. Miss Assher may come in again.
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