Their novelty to her made them new to him. She leant her elbows
on the table and watched his face as he told them.
"Now," he said, when they had finished their coffee, "how about the
songs? I've done my share of the entertainment. As soon as I've got
the bill, we'll go back, and you can supply the more serious items
of the programme."
"Really--I'm afraid I couldn't. I believe you think I sing well--I
don't. I did think of going on the stage once--into musical
comedy--but not because I was musical."
"Well--of course not. It isn't a refuge for the art. But I have my
belief in your being able to sing. You're not going to shake that."
"Very well--I suppose I'll try." Her hands lifted to her face. "My
cheeks are burning. Do they look very red?"
"No--not particularly--the room's warm, I think."
She permitted herself to be satisfied with that explanation. Had a
mirror been near at hand, she would have realized in its reflection
that the warmth of the room was not the only cause for the flushed
scarlet of her cheeks, or the light that glittered in the expanded
pupils of her eyes.
When Devenish had paid the bill, they departed. A hansom conveyed
them back to Sally's rooms in Regent Street.
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