By immense efforts--and I hate to exert myself in
conversation--I succeeded in prolonging the session through a cigar and
a half, but at last I was forced to submit to a move; and with a
somewhat ancient remark from Mr. Ghyrkins, to the effect that all good
things must come to an end, we returned to the drawing-room.
Isaacs and Miss Westonhaugh were looking over some English photographs,
and she was enthusiastically praising the beauties of Gothic
architecture, while Isaacs was making the most of his opportunity, and
taking a good look at her as she bent over the album. After we came in,
she made a little music at the tuneless piano--there never was a piano
in India yet that had any tune in it--playing and singing a little, very
prettily. She sang something about a body in the rye, and then something
else about drinking only with the eyes, to which her brother sang a sort
of second very nicely. I do not understand much about music, but I
thought the allusion to Isaacs' temperance in only drinking with his
eyes was rather pointed. He said, however, that he liked it even better
with a second than when she sang it alone, so I argued that it was not
the first time he had heard it.
"Mr. Isaacs," said she, "you have often promised to sing something
Persian for us.
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