from his engagement. Keith had utterly forgotten his fatigue, and was
tingling with the enthusiasm to which his nature always rose under
stimulus. The Englishman, very self-contained, clean-cut, incisive, brought
a new atmosphere. He was cordial and polite, but not expansive. Keith came
down from the clouds. He remembered, with compunction, Nan sitting in the
armchair, the lateness of the hour, his own fatigue.

"You should hear Mr. Keith's new song, Charley," said Mrs, Morrell. "It's
the most wonderful thing! The 'Bedouin Love Song,' You must surely sing it
at the Firemen's Ball. It will make a great hit. No, you surely must. With
a voice like yours it is selfish not to use it for the benefit of all.
Don't you agree with me, Mrs. Keith?"

"I'll sing it, if you will play my accompaniment," said Keith.

On their way home Keith's enthusiasm bubbled up again.

"Isn't it great luck to find somebody to practise with?" he cried--
"Unexpected luck in a place like this! I wish you cared for music."

"Oh, I do," said Nan. "I love it. But I just can't do it, that's all."

"Did you like it to-night?"

"I liked it when you really _sang_" replied Nan with a little yawn, "but it
always took you such a time to get at it."

A short silence fell.

"Are you really going to sing at the Firemen's Ball?" she asked curiously.