nquiries. And then by good luck
I learned of you--from my husband's partner."

"You're Joe Lanier's wife, aren't you?" he asked.

"His second," she said with emphasis. And a moment later she told
herself, "Yes, his eyes do twinkle, and he seems to be quite nice. He
isn't so excessively fat, and he has a big wide generous mouth, and I
like his eyes. But he thinks my coming like this a bit queer, and he's
wondering what's behind it." She downed her excitement and went on in
the same resolute tone she had used with such success on Nourse. No
personal conversation just yet, she would show him she meant business.
And so she stuck to the lessons.

"If you'll take me as a pupil," she said, "I'd like to begin
immediately."

"Let me try your voice," he proposed. He went to the piano, and there
his manner had soon changed. From genial and curious it grew
interested. He spoke rather sharply, asking her to do this and that,
and she felt as though she were being probed. "You have a voice," he
said, at the end. "Not a world shaker," he added, smiling, "but one
that interests me a lot." She beamed on him.

"You'll take me, then?"

"Assuredly."

"Oh, that's so nice." They decided on the time for her lessons. Then
she glanced at her wrist watch. "Will you see if my car is waiting!"
she asked. "I had him take the nurse and baby up to the Park--and he
ought to be back by now, I think." But as Dwight went to the telephone,
she added excitedly to herself, "Now if that idiot of a chauffeur is as
late as I told him to be, you and I will have quite a talk, Mr.
Dwight."

"It isn't here yet," he informed her.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I'll have to walk." She smiled and held out her hand
to him. "Will you send the chauffeur home!"

"If you like," he replied good-humouredly. "But I'd much rather you'd
wait here--if you have nothing pressing." And as she hesitated, "It's
not only your voice, you know--I used to be quite a friend of Joe's."

"Oh, yes, I remember his telling me. Over in Paris, wasn't it?"

Soon they were talking easily. Dwight had lit a cigarette, and Ethel
could see he was studying her. She tried to look unconscious.

"I've wanted to go to Paris all my life," she told him. "How long is it
since you left?"

"Only a year." She looked at him.

"Is there a Paris in New York?"

"I'm not sure yet--I'm new, you see."

"So am I," she confided frankly. And at that he gave her a swift glance
which made Ethel add to herself, "