or of her absurd patronising airs, which didn’t hurt me in the smallest degree. But Georgie, she would continue to make such a dreadful ass of herself, and think it was my fault. Was it my fault that she didn’t know the Spanish quartette when she heard it, or that she didn’t know a word of Italian, when she pretended she did, or that the other day (it was the last time I saw her, when you played your Debussy to us at Aunt Jane’s) she talked to me about inverted fifths?”
Olga suddenly burst out laughing, and Georgie assumed the Riseholme face of intense curiosity.
“You must tell me all about that,” he said, “and I’ll tell you the rest which you don’t know.”
Olga succumbed too, and began to talk in Aunt Jane’s voice, for she had adopted her as an aunt.
“Well, it was last Monday week” she said “or was it Sunday? No it couldn’t have been Sunday because I don’t have anybody to tea that day, as Elizabeth goes over to Jacob’s and spends the afternoon with Atkinson, or the other way about, which doesn’t signify, as the point is that Elizabeth should be free. So it was Monday, and Aunt Jane – it’s me talking again – had the tea-party at which you played Poisson d’Or. And when it was finished, Mrs Lucas gave a great sigh, and said ‘Poor Georgino! Wasting his time over that rubbish,’ though she knew quite well that I had given it to you. And so I said, ‘Would you call it rubbish, do you think?’ and she, said ‘Quite. Every rule of music is violated. Don’t those inverted fifths make you wince, Miss Bracely?”
Olga laughed again, and spoke in her own voice.
“Oh, Georgie, she is an ass,” she said. “What
