The Wastrel—as we call him—cannot play when he's sober; hands too shaky. We'll have him on his way before many days. His condition is not unfavourable, but there may be a relapse at any moment. Sydney was strumming over a new song which stood upon the piano. I am so much obliged to you for your projected benevolence. ‘Shocked you, have I? We weren’t mealy-mouthed in my day, my boy. Even the stars were strangers. “My friend,” she said, “I have been your pupil for two years. ‘That’s a loud one.
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