Aware of the footman hovering, and the hackney coachman’s curious eyes looking down from his box, Gerald leaned a little towards her and spoke in a lowered tone. “He must never know,” she would whisper to herself, “he must never know. "I was about to add," continued Gay, "that my opera shall have no music except the good old ballad tunes. “I—I shall be all right directly. “You were there, were you?” He laughed a little impatiently. Yet in some hidden corner was a vein of sentiment, of which for the first time in his later life he was now unexpectedly aware. But they were old enough to start remembering you as mother, and we cannot have that. Instead, they lived a Bohemian existence, moving from patron to patron, city to city.
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