"What?" Dr. Kraft's surprise increased. "Young man, you are
fortunate! I play for Miss Vertrees; she comes always alone.
You are the first. You are the first one EVER!"
They had reached the head of the central aisle, and as the organist
finished speaking Bibbs stopped short, turning to look at Mary
Vertrees in a dazed way that was not of her perceiving; for, though
she stopped as he did, her gaze followed the organist, who was walking
away from them toward the front of the church, shaking his white
Beethovian mane roguishly.
"It's false pretenses on my part," Bibbs said. "You mean to be kind
to the sick, but I'm not an invalid any more. I'm so well I'm going
back to work in a few days. I'd better leave before he begins to
play, hadn't I?"
"No," said Mary, beginning to walk forward. "Not unless you don't
like great music."
He followed her to a seat about half-way up the aisle while Dr. Kraft
ascended to the organ. It was an enormous one, the procession of
pipes ranging from long, starveling whistles to thundering fat guns;
they covered all the rear wall of the church, and the organist's
figure, reaching its high perch, looked like that of some Lilliputian
magician ludicrously daring the attempt to control a monster certain
to overwhelm him.
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