d her.

"Well, I enjoyed that," he said with a boyish ring. "Come, now,
wasn't it jolly to see people again? Everyone had a wonderful time."
He hummed as he walked lightly over to the table and helped himself
to a cigarette.

She dropped on the couch.

"I'm a little tired."

He lit his cigarette, staring at her over the tiny flame of the
match before he blew it out.

"Why, I never noticed. You do look all in."

She straightened with an effort, put a hand to her hair.

"I'm afraid I've lost the habit."

"You'll have to get it again," he said happily. "We're going to give
lots of parties. It's good for my business, too. Walter Mason
brought a man here to-night who is thinking of building a house on
Long Island. Walter tells me he went away quite won over."

She was all interest at once.

"Why didn't you tell me? I might have made a special effort to be
nice to him."

"Oh, he had a good time," he said carelessly. "I say, Myra, your
friend Miss Maury is fascinating. Sings divinely." He moved over to
the couch and sat on the edge of it, absent-mindedly toying with her
hand.

"She's very lovely," Myra agreed.

"Why didn't you sing?" he suddenly asked.

"I didn't need to." The little smile was back, fastened to her lips.
A certain unfamiliar embarrassment fell between them. She made no
effort to dissipate it.

He yawned.

"Well, you should have. Heavens! it's late! Two o'clock. I'm off to
bed." He kissed her lightly on the forehead.

"I'll be along in a moment," she said.

She heard him humming in the next room, heard him moving about,
heard the bump of his shoes on the floor. She lay, her eyes closed.
Presently she got up, went to the piano and let her fingers wander
over the keys. Then she began to sing softly. Her fine critical
faculties were awake. She listened while she sang--listened as if
some one else would rise or fall on her verdict. There was a curious
lack of vibrancy in her notes. They did not come from the heart.

Suddenly she stopped. Oliver was calling "Myra."

She thrilled with a swift hope that brought her to her feet, flushed
and tremulous.

"Aren't you coming to bed soon? It's too late for music," drifted
faintly querulous down the hall.

The light went out of her face.

"I'm coming." A leaden weariness was over her. Slowly she closed the
piano.

He was already asleep when she tiptoed into the room. She stood a
moment staring down at him.

"The worst of it is that I shal