"I do wish you might have been there last night," she said after a little
silence. "I don't believe I've ever sung so well;--could have, at least,
if there had been room enough to turn around in. It was all there; it's
getting bigger all the time. Not just the voice, if you know what I mean,
darling, but what I could do with it."

"It was partly Novelli, I suspect," he said. "Having him for an
accompanist, I mean. He's very good indeed, isn't he?"

"Oh, yes, he's good," she assented absently. "Awfully good. And he is a
nice furry little enthusiastic thing; like a faun, rather; exciting to
play with of course. But it wasn't that. It's you, really--being in love
with you the way I am. I suppose that's the very best thing that could
possibly have happened to me. I'm another person altogether from that
girl you found in Vienna. Just where she left off, I begin."

She uttered a little laugh then of sheer exuberance and with a strong
embrace, pressed his head hard against her breast. He yielded passively,
made no response of his own beyond a deep-drawn breath or two. A moment
later when she had released him and risen to her feet, he rose too.

"Would Novelli be procurable?" he asked. "Could he be engaged regularly,
as an accompanist for you and so on?"

She looked at him rather oddly. "Why, I don't need him," she said, "as
long as I am just playing. Of course, if I were to go regularly to work,
somebody like him would be almost necessary."

There was a tight little silence for a few seconds after that, he once
more evading her eyes. "It seems to me you work most of the time as it