Radowitz wavered in a march finale he was improvising, and looked round.
"Oh, go on!" cried Constance.
But Radowitz ceased playing.

He got up, with an angry shake of his wave of hair, muttered something about "another couple of hours' work" and closed the piano.
Constance remained sitting, as though unaware of the new arrival in the room.
"That was wonderful!" she said, with a long breath, her eyes raised to Radowitz.

"Now I shall go and read Polish history!" A resonant voice said: "Hullo--Radowitz! Good-evening, Lady Connie.

Isn't this a scandalous time to call?
But I came about the ball-tickets for next Wednesday--to ask how many your aunt wants.

There seems to be an unholy rush on them." Connie put out a careless hand.
"How do you do?
We've been having the most divine music! Next Wednesday?
Oh, yes, I remember!" And as she recovered her hand from Falloden, she drew it across her eyes, as though trying to dispel the dream in which Radowitz's playing had wrapped her.