Read it through once

It was late and the deepening streets were dumb. I could not hear the shops, or the traffic on the river. Some one else was playing the piano in the next room, and the tune was of those which keep the heart serene. My thoughts were of you, and of the times when I had been with you, and when I had been less alone than now. You were sitting on the floor leaning against the sofa. Your hands were clasped; your head was bent forward; you were weeping quietly.