e coming back to true friends. Blessed be all true friends."
He shook hands with them, and went away down the great stairway, a
splendid figure of dignity and grace.

After this he came once and again to the apartment of the Rue de
Presbourg, generally it would appear to use the piano. He had none in
his own tiny _pied-a-terre_ and he missed it. Sylvia immensely liked
his continuing to cling for a time to the simple arrangements of his
frugal bachelor days. He could now of course have bought a thousand
pianos. They understood how he would miss his music, and stole in
quietly when, upon opening the door, Tojiko told them that Mr.
Morrison had come in, and they heard from the salon his delicately
firm touch on the keys. Sometimes they listened from their rooms,
sometimes the two women took possession of the little octagonal room
off the salon, all white paneling and gilt chairs, and listened there;
sometimes, as the weeks went on and an especially early spring began
to envelop Paris in a haze of sunshine and budding leaves, they
stepped out to listen on the wrought-iron balcony which looked down
the long, shining vista of the tree-framed avenue. For the most part
he played Bach, grave, courageous, formal, great-hearted music.

Sometimes he went away with no more than a nod and a smile to them,
but more and more, when he had finished, he came out where they were,
and stood or sat to exchange brief impressions on the enchanting
season, or on some social or aesthetic treat which "_ces dames_" had
been enjoying. Austin Page was frequently with them, as in the earlier
part of the winter, and it was finally he himself who one day took the
step of asking Morrison if he would not go with them to the Louvre.
"No one could appreciate more than Miss Marshall what has always been
such a delight to us all."

They went, and not only once. That was the beginning of another phase;
a period when, as he began to take up life again, he turned to his old
friends to help him do it. He saw almost no one else, certainly no one
else there, for he was sure to disappear upon the arrival of a caller,
or the announcement of an expedition in which other people were
included. But he returned again and again to the Louvre with them, his
theory of galleries necessitating frequent visits. Nothing could be
more idiotic, he held, than to try to see on one occasion all, or even
half, or even a tenth part, of a great collection of works of art. "It
is exa