‘But it is idiot. ’ Gerald was relieved to find the girl did not attempt to run away, but meekly allowed him to usher her into the spacious and comfortable library which was his habitual haunt when at home. He played for an hour—Grieg, Chopin, Rubenstein, Liszt, crashing music. Only I do not care to write about anything else. There was a pint of champagne and a quart of mineral water (both taboo) at his elbow. By this time, the churchyard was crowded with spectators, some of whom dispersed in different directions in quest of the other robber. But he's witty and amusing, and when reasonably drunk he can play the piano like a Paderewski.
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