She responded indifferently.

"No. I haven't booked a single further engagement. The ha'pence are
due to an avuncular relative who has a quite inexplicable penchant for
an idle niece."

"My congratulations. Still, I hope this unexpected windfall isn't
going to keep you off the concert platform altogether?"

"Not more than my own distaste for playing in public," she answered.
"I'd much rather write music than perform."

"I can hardly believe you really dislike the publicity? The
fascination of it grows on most of us."

"I know it does. I suppose that accounts for the endless farewell
concerts a declining singer generally treats us to."

There was an unwonted touch of sharpness in her voice, and Fenton
glanced at her in some surprise. It was unlike her to give vent to
such an acid little speech. He could not know, of course, that Kitty's
light-hearted remark concerning Peter Mallory's facilities for studying
the feminine temperament was still rankling somewhere at the back of
her mind.

"There's a big element of pathos in those farewell concerts," he
submitted gently. "You pianists have a great advantage over the
singer, whose instrument must inevitably deteriorate with the passing
years."