He was too surprised to find words at once, and he was trying to recollect what he had been playing.
"You see, listening to music this way isn't like listening to--to talking," hurried on Billy, feverishly.

"It isn't sneaking like that; is it ?" "Why--no." "And you don't mind ?" "Why, surely, I ought not to mind--that," he admitted.
"Then I can keep right on as I have done.

Thank you," sighed Billy, in relief.
"Keep right on! Have you been here before ?" "Why, yes, lots of days.

And, say, Mr.Cyril, what is that--that thing that's all chords with big bass notes that keep saying something so fine and splendid that it marches on and on, getting bigger and grander, just as if there couldn't anything stop it, until it all ends in one great burst of triumph?
Mr.Cyril, what is that ?" "Why, Billy!"-- the interest this time in the man's face was not faint--"I wish I might make others catch my meaning as I have evidently made you do it! That's something of my own--that I'm writing, you understand; and I've tried to say--just what you say you heard." "And I did hear it--I did! Oh, won't you play it, please, with the door open ?" "I can't, Billy.

I'm sorry, indeed I am.