Chapter 21

David, glancing at her now and then, recognized her enjoyment. Another point of contact, and a significant one, he exulted. He hadn't known whether she cared a copper cent for Brahms or Beethoven, Debussy or Tschaikovsky or any of those schools. Now he knew. He insisted on trying her with various sorts, not excluding two or three very modern pieces, and when finally the little recital came to a finish with a simple but effective setting of an old English song, he waved his bow with a flourish. "She likes what we do…