It's the wonderful player
you are all out, but I never heard you play like that before, and I
think there's something in it that's more than I can find out. That's
enough of it for to-night."
Terence had already come back to Kathleen. She could scarcely speak to
him even yet. "Who taught you to play like that?" she said.
"I don't quite know," he answered, "whether anybody taught me. They
taught me to play here, and the music that I just played is their
music, but I don't play it the way they do. I don't know why that is.
Just as soon as they had taught me so that I could play at all, I
began to play in my own way. Their music is sweet and bright and merry
and sparkling, and sometimes it seems to be sad, but it never means
anything."
Kathleen was startled again to hear Terence say the very words that
she had said so many times about the other Terence's music. "But I
never played before in my life," Terence went on, "the way I have
been playing just now. I think it was because you were here. You
understood, and so I thought of nothing but you all the time that I
was playing, and I think it made me play better.
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