It occurred to Vane that Miss Blake, who evidently had a spice of temper,
could be a staunch partizan, and he also noticed that now that he had
inspired her with some degree of trust in himself her conversation was
marked by an ingenuous candor.

"Another piece, or some tea?" she asked.

"Tea first, please."

They both laughed when she handed him a second slice of bread.

"These sandwiches strike me as unusually nice," he informed her. "It's
exceptionally good tea, too. I don't remember ever getting anything to
equal them at a hotel."

The blue eyes gleamed with amusement.

"You have been in the cold all night--but I was once in a restaurant."
She watched the effect of this statement on him. "You know I really can't
sing--I was never taught, anyway--though there were some of the
settlements where we did rather well."

Vane hummed a few bars of a song.

"I don't suppose you realize what one ballad of yours has done. I'd
almost forgotten the Old Country, but the night I heard you I felt I must
go back and see it again. What's more, Carroll and I are going
shortly--it's your doing."