Will you sing for me to-morrow?
Will you come to the music-room and sing all the lovely things I want to hear?
And will you let me play a few of your accompaniments?
Ah, promise you will come.

And promise to sing whatever I ask, and I won't bother you any more now." He stood looking up at her, waiting for her promise, with such adoration shining in his eyes that Jane was startled and more than a little troubled.

Then suddenly it seemed to her that she had found the key, and she hastened to explain it to herself and to him.
"Oh, you dear boy!" she said.

"What an artist you are! And how difficult it is for us commonplace, matter-of-fact people to understand the artistic temperament.

Here you go, almost turning my steady old head by your rapture over what seemed to you perfection of sound which has reached you through the ear; just as, again and again, you worship at the shrine of perfection of form, which reaches you through the eye.
I begin to understand how it is you turn the heads of women when you paint them.