Plowden had remembered Kervick's name, when the chance
arose to give the old boy a leg up, and then had clean
forgotten the circumstance. The episode rather increased
his liking for Plowden.

He glanced briefly, under the impulse of his thought,
to where the peer sat, or rather sprawled, in a big low chair
before the fire. He was so nearly recumbent in it, indeed,
that there was nothing to be seen of him but an elbow,
and two very trim legs extended to the brass fender.
Thorpe's gaze reverted automatically to the face of
General Kervick's daughter. He wondered if she knew
about the Company, and about him, and about his ability
to solidify to any extent her father's financial position.
Even more, upon reflection, he wondered whether she was
very fond of her father; would she be extremely grateful
to one who should render him securely comfortable for
life? Miss Madden rose from the piano before Thorpe noted
that the music had ceased. There came from the others
a soft but fervent chorus of exclamations, the sincerity
and enthusiasm of which made him a little ashamed.
He had evidently been deaf to something that deeply
moved the rest. Even Balder made remarks which seemed
to be regarded as apposite.

"What IS it?" asked Lady Cressage, with obvious feeling.
"I don't know when anything has touched me so much."

"Old Danish songs that I picked up on the quai
in Paris for a franc or two," replied Miss Madden.