"I suppose you're just sending it
somewhere to be repaired, aren't you?"
"It's--it's being taken down-town," said Mrs. Vertrees. "Won't you
come in and make me a little visit. I was SO sorry, the other day,
that I was--ah--" She stopped inconsequently, then repeated her
invitation. "Won't you come in? I'd really--"
"Thank you, but I must be running back. My husband usually gets home
about this time, and I make a little point of it always to be there."
"That's very sweet." Mrs. Vertrees descended the steps and walked
toward the street with Sibyl. "It's quite balmy for so late in
November, isn't it? Almost like a May evening."
"I'm afraid Miss Vertrees will miss her piano," said Sibyl, watching
the instrument disappear into the big van at the curb. "She plays
wonderfully, Mrs. Kittersby tells me."
"Yes, she plays very well. One of your relatives came to hear her
yesterday, after dinner, and I think she played all evening for him."
"You mean Bibbs?" asked Sibyl.
"The--the youngest Mr. Sheridan. Yes. He's very musical, isn't he?"
"I never heard of it. But I shouldn't think it would matter much
whether he was or not, if he could get Miss Vertrees to play to him.
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