eference."

"Yes. _Boris_ is wonderful. Oh, some of the scenes in _Boris_!"

"And even more _Kovantchina_," said Aaron. "I wish we could go back
to melody pure and simple. Yet I find _Kovantchina_, which is all mass
music practically, gives me more satisfaction than any other opera."

"Do you really? I shouldn't say so: oh, no--but you can't mean that
you would like all music to go back to melody pure and simple! Just a
flute--just a pipe! Oh, Mr. Sisson, you are bigoted for your instrument.
I just LIVE in harmony--chords, chords!" She struck imaginary chords on
the white damask, and her sapphires swam blue. But at the same time she
was watching to see if Sir William had still got beside his plate the
white medicine _cachet_ which he must swallow at every meal. Because if
so, she must remind him to swallow it. However, at that very moment,
he put it on his tongue. So that she could turn her attention again to
Aaron and the imaginary chord on the white damask; the thing she just
lived in. But the rubicund bald colonel, more rubicund after wine, most
rubicund now the Marsala was going, snatched her attention with a burly
homage to her femininity, and shared his fear with her with a boyish
gallantry.

When the women had gone up, Sir William came near and put his hand on
Aaron's shoulder. It was evident the charm was beginning to work. Sir
William was a self-made man, and not in the least a snob. He liked the
fundamental ordinariness in Aaron, the commonness of the common man.

"Well now, Mr. Sisson, we are very glad to see you! Very glad, indeed. I
count Mr. Lilly one of the most interesting men it has ever been my good
fortune to know. And so for your own sake, and for Mr. Lilly's sake,
we are very glad to see you. Arthur, my boy, give Mr. Sisson some
Marsala--and take some yourself."

"Thank you, Sir," said the well-nourished young man in nice evening
clothes. "You'll take another glass yourself, Sir?"

"Yes, I will, I will. I will drink a glass with Mr. Sisson. Major, where
are you wandering off to? Come and take a glass with us, my boy."

"Thanks, Sir William," drawled the young major with the black patch.

"Now, Colonel--I hope you are in good health and spirits."

"Never better, Sir William, never better."

"I'm very glad to hear it; very glad indeed. Try my Marsala--I think it
is quite good. Port is beyond us for the moment--for the moment--"

And the old man sipped his brown wine, and smiled again. He m