"I wish you would sing to us again, Miss Harleth," said young Clintock, the archdeacon's classical son, who had been so fortunate as to take her to dinner, and came up to renew conversation as soon as Herr Klesmer's performance was ended, "That is the style of music for me. I never can make anything of this tip-top playing. It is like a jar of leeches, where you can never tell either beginnings or endings. I could listen to your singing all day."

"I wish you would sing to us again, Miss Harleth," said Clintock, the Archdeacon's son, as soon as Herr Klesmer's performance was ended. "That is the style of music for me. I never can make anything of this tip-top playing, but I could listen to your singing all day."
