His familiar stream of talk was very different: it discarded affectation, and had a directness, a vigour, which never left one in doubt as to his actual views of life.

How melody of any kind could issue from a nature so manifestly ignoble might puzzle the idealist.

Alma, who had known a good many musical people, was not troubled by this difficulty; in her present mood, she submitted to the arrogance of success, and felt a pleasure, an encouragement, in Dymes's bluff _camaraderie_.
'Let me try to catch it on the violin,' she said when, with nodding head and waving arm, he had hummed again through his composition.
She succeeded in doing so, and Dymes raised his humming to a sentimental roar, and was vastly pleased with himself.
'I like to see you in a place like this,' he said.

'Looks more business-like--as if you really meant to do something.

Do you live here alone ?' 'With a friend.' Something peculiar in Dymes's glance caused her to add, 'A German girl, an art student.' Whereat the musician nodded and smiled.
'And what's your idea?
Come now, let's talk about it.