"You came in after us, I think." She shook her head.
"No, I have a class on Wednesday evening." "A class!" he repeated, doubtfully.
Mr.Bullsom, who thought he had been out of the conversation long enough, interposed.
"Mary calls herself a bit of a philanthropist, you see, Mr.Brooks," he explained.

"Goes down into Medchester and teaches factory girls to play the piano on Wednesday evenings.

Much good may it do them." There was a curious gleam in the girl's eyes for a moment which checked the words on Brooks' lips, and led him to precipitately abandon the conversation.

But afterwards, while Selina was pedalling at the pianola and playing havoc with the expression-stops, he crossed the room and stood for a moment by her chair.
"I should like you to tell me about your class," he said.

"I have several myself--of different sorts." She closed her magazine, but left her finger in the place.
"Oh, mine is a very unambitious undertaking," she said.