it? the public would expect that--"

"Why not?" Nina said, with a pleasant smile. "Why not? I learn. She
knows more; why I not learn?"

"It's a shame to throw away a fine voice like yours on a small part in
comic opera," he said--still with vague dreams before him of a
concert-room career for her.

"But I must begin," said she, with much practical common-sense, "and
while I am in the small part, I learn to act, I learn the stage-affair,
I learn better English, to the end of having a place more important.
Why, Leo, you are too careful of me! At Naples I work hard, I am a slave
to old Pandiani--I suffer everything--can I not work hard here in
London? You think I am an infant? Certainly I am not--no, no--I am
old--old--"

"But light-hearted still, Nina," he said, for she was clearly bent on
laughing away his fears. Then he looked at her, with a little
hesitation. "There's another thing, Nina? about the costume."

"Yes?" she asked, innocently.

"I don't know--whether you would quite like--but I'll show you Mlle.
Girond's dress anyway--then you can judge for yourself," said he. He
called the waiter. He scribbled on a piece of paper, "Photograph of
Mlle. Girond as Capitaine Crépin in 'The Squire's Daughter.'" "Send
round to some stationer's shop, will you, and get me that?"

When the messenger returned with the photograph, Lionel, rather timidly,