Читать книгу The Passionate Quest онлайн

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"Not yet," she murmured. "I want to listen."

The young man withdrew his pipe from his mouth.

"Listen to what?" he asked. "I can't hear anything particular."

The long-limbed youth on the other side of the girl, who had been lying flat on his back in the sunshine, turned over towards his two companions and laughed.

"My dear Matthew," he said, speaking with a natural but not unpleasant drawl, which seemed somehow out of keeping with his ready-made clothes and clumsy boots, "of course you can hear nothing particular, but that is because your ear is not attuned to the music of the world. Rosina is listening to the wind amongst the corn tops there. Can't you hear it rustling and whispering all the way across from that cluster of poppies, and high up in the tree tops above your head, too—a more melancholy note there, perhaps, but still music?"

"Is it!" the young man named Matthew replied shortly. "I prefer a gramophone. And, anyhow, we didn't come out here to listen—we came to talk. If Rosina wants to rest, you go ahead, Philip. Tell me what it is that you two have been putting your heads together about."