He turned his weary eyes to the window again but, evidently making an effort, immediately continued once more.

“Yes, that man made his appearance⁠ ⁠…” he became confused and once or twice made that peculiar sound with his nose.

I could see that it was painful for him to name that man, to recall him, or speak about him. But he made an effort and, as if he had broken the obstacle that hindered him, continued resolutely.

“He was a worthless man in my opinion and according to my estimate. And not because of the significance he acquired in my life but because he really was so. However, the fact that he was a poor sort of fellow only served to show how irresponsible she was. If it had not been he then it would have been another. It had to be!”

Again he paused. “Yes, he was a musician, a violinist; not a professional, but a semiprofessional semi-society man.