“Oh, Bank Holiday, you mean? Oh, that wasn’t pleasure exactly. Miss Trant and I had gone to Hertfordshire to collect some data in connection with a new book I’m on with. Coming back we thought we’d go past High Beech--that was all.” “Another book?” “Only a treatise on economics--not at all interesting to most people, I assure you. You’d probably find it extremely tiresome.” “How do you know?” she asked aggressively. She disliked his readiness to lump her among the “most people.” Also she was annoyed to think that what he said was probably true, that she would find it extremely tiresome. She had tackled his _Village Community_ (the first chapter) and been unable to make head or tail of it. “I don’t know,” he replied. “I only think ... Mrs. Tebbutt!” The summons was presumably to someone in the house. A female voice called “Yes!” “Bring some tea outside, will you?” he sang out, and the voice within responded with a resigned, “Very well, sir.” ... Into an outhouse he plunged, and emerged with a deck-chair and cushions. “Come on,” he said, and handed her the cushions to carry. “It’s pretty cool round by those shrubs.” They strolled back over the lawn, and took up positions facing one another. “Mind if I smoke?” he remarked, and before she could murmur a “Oh, not at all,” he had lit a cigarette and was puffing at it. “Smoke yourself?” he then said. “Thanks,” she replied, and took one out of a box of Egyptian cigarettes that lay on the ground beside him. “Now,” he began, “about that recital....” “Yes?” “Let me talk to you a bit.... Do you know anything about recitals? No, of course you don’t. Well, listen to me.... A recital ...” § 7 What he told her might be summarized thus: “A recital is an expensive business. It means taking a risk. If it is a failure it is a big failure. If it is a success it opens up a vista of bigger successes. It is the barrier which every first-class _virtuoso_ has to approach and surmount. There is no reason why you should not attempt to surmount it. Provided you are willing to undertake the financial risk. After all, though you will never be a first-class pianist, you may quite easily be a second, and a good many second-class people pass the barrier successfully.” As a sort of running undercurrent to his remarks there was the implication: “There is no knowing what the British public may do. I prophesy neither success nor failure. Even if you aren’t tip-top the public may insist on treating you as if you were, in which case you will no doubt have a difficulty in believing anybody who tells you you aren’t. If the fickle public makes an idol of you, I can’t help it. I can only assure you you don’t merit it. In fact, I wash my hands of all responsibility for your future.” Practically what he said was: