Keith had a strong smooth baritone, not too well trained, but free from
glaring faults and mannerisms. It filled the little drawing-room ringingly.
He liked the song, and he sang it with fire and a certain defiance that
suited it. At its conclusion Mrs. Morrell sprang to her feet, breathing
quickly, her usual hard, quick artificiality of manner quite melted.

"It's wonderful!" she cried. "It lifts one right up! It makes me feel I'd
run away----" She checked herself abruptly, and turned to where Nan sat in
an armchair outside the circle of light, "Don't you just _adore_ it?" she
asked in a more restrained manner, and turned back to Keith, who was
standing a little flushed and excited by the song, "You have just the voice
for it--with that vibrating deep quality." She reseated herself at the
piano and struck several loud chords. Under cover of them she added, half
under her breath, as though to herself, but distinctly audible to the man
at her shoulder; "Luck for us all that you are already taken."

Keith would have been no more than human if he had not followed this cue
with a look. She did not lower her eyes, but gave him back his gaze
directly. It was as though some secret understanding sprang up between
them, though Keith,--in half-angry confusion, could not have analyzed it.

After this they compared notes until they found several songs they both
knew. Mrs. Morrell brushed aside Keith's suggestion that she herself should
sing, but she did it in a way that left the implication that he was the
important one vocally.

"No, no! I've been starved too long. I'm as tired of my little reed of a
voice as of the tinkle of a musical box."

The close of the evening was brought about only by the return of Morrell