“ ‘How glad I am that you have come: we have not decided what to play on Sunday,’ she said in a tone she would not have used to me had we been alone. This and her using the word ‘we’ of herself and him, filled me with indignation. I greeted him silently.

“He pressed my hand, and at once, with a smile which I thought distinctly ironic, began to explain that he had brought some music to practise for Sunday, but that they disagreed about what to play: a classical but more difficult piece, namely Beethoven’s sonata for the violin, or a few little pieces. It was all so simple and natural that there was nothing one could cavil at, yet I felt certain that it was all untrue and that they had agreed how to deceive me.