"I am a frightful kill-joy, Hermann." Hermann sat down on the treble part of his piano.
"That's the most conceited thing I've heard you say yet," he remarked.
"Nobody will pay any attention to you; you won't kill anybody's joy.
Also it's rather rude of you." "I didn't mean to be rude," said Michael.
"Then we must suppose you were rude by accident.

That is the worst sort of rudeness." "I'm sorry; I'll come," said Michael.
"That's right.

You might even find yourself enjoying it by accident, you know.

If you don't, you can go away.

There's music; Sylvia sings quite seriously sometimes, and other people sing or bring violins, and those who don't like it, talk--and then we get less serious.