softly an old ballad, to the accompaniment of a few notes very gently
struck now and again on a piano.

Carminow said nothing, but lay back in his chair and puffed out clouds
of smoke over his face. Killigrew looked at him and whistled.

"I say ..." he said.... "Own up, Carminow! Who is it?"

"If you mean who is the lady singing," said Carminow with sudden
stiffness, "she is Miss Grey, who has the room above this. She is a
young lady about whom I think even you would not make your obscene jokes
if you knew her."

"Sits the wind in that quarter?..." thought Killigrew, highly amused.
"I'll roast him...." Aloud he said: "And may I not know her, then,
Carminow? If Miss Grey is a friend of yours, perhaps--"

"I am vewy particular about whom I intwoduce to Miss Grey," said
Carminow unflatteringly; "that is to say, I should first have to find
out whether she wished it. She is quite alone, poor girl."

"Dear me! How is that? Is she some romantic governess out of a place or
a lady who through no fault of her own has come down in the world?"

"Miss Grey is on the stage."

Killigrew roared with laughter. "You hear, Ishmael; here's your chance.
You were saying you didn't know any actresses, and now here's Carminow
with one up his sleeve all ready for you. Tell us all about it, old
chap!"