"And I'm greedy.

May we have one more ?" He slid into the opening bars of "Who is Sylvia ?" That song, since he had heard her sing it at her recital in the summer, had grown in significance to him, even as she had.

It had seemed part of her then, but then she was a stranger.

To-night it was even more intimately part of her, and she was a friend.
Hermann strolled across to the fireplace at the end of this, and lit a cigarette.
"My sister's a blatant egoist, Lady Barbara," he said.

"She loves singing about herself.