The woman nods in return.  “Olivia Dew,” she says with a smile.  “And no, it isn't the music that bothers me.  It is the musician that bothers me.  He still hasn't learned how to play nicely with others. She strolls past the maid and the guest, heading for the back of the central hall.  “The courtyard sounds like a much more pleasant place to spend the evening than with that baboon.”