She began a patriotic ballad Dick knew and liked. He was not much of a musician, but his taste was good. The song rang true; it was poetry and not warlike jingle, but he had not heard it sung so well before. Clare's voice had been carefully trained and she used it well, but he knew that she had grasped the spirit of the song. One or two of the men who had been sitting got up, two young subalterns stood very stiff and straight, but Dick noted that Kenwardine did not change his lounging attitude. He was smiling, and Lance, glancing at him, looked amused. Dick remembered this afterward, but he now felt that Lance was not quite showing his usual good form. When the song was finished, Dick turned to Clare. He wanted to begin talking to her before anybody else came up. "It was very fine. I don't understand the technique of music, but one felt that you got the song just right. And then, the way you brought out the idea!" "That is what the mechanical part is for," she answered with a smile and a touch of color. "As it happens, I saw an infantry brigade on the march to-day, and watched the long line of men go by in the dust and sun. Perhaps that helps one to understand." "Did you see them cross the bridge?" Dick asked eagerly. "No," she answered; and he felt absurdly disappointed. He would have liked to think that his work had helped her to sing. "Have you another like the first?" he asked. "I never sing more than once," she smiled. Then as Lance and another man came toward them, she added, glancing at an open French window: "Besides, the room is very hot. It would be cooler in the garden." Dick was not a man of affairs, but he was not a fool. He knew that Clare Kenwardine was not the girl to attempt his captivation merely because he had shown himself susceptible. She wanted him to keep the others off, and he thought he understood this as he glanced at Lance's companion. The fellow had a coarse, red face and looked dissipated, and even Lance's well-bred air was somehow not so marked as usual. Well, he was willing that she should make any use of him that she liked. They passed the others, and after stopping to tell Kenwardine that she was going out, Clare drew back a curtain that covered part of the window. Dick stepped across the ledge and, seeing that the stairs below were iron and rather slippery, held out his hand to Clare. The curtain swung back and cut off the light, and when they were near the bottom the girl tripped and clutched him. Her hand swept downward from his shoulder across his chest and caught the outside pocket of his coat, while he grasped her waist to steady her. "Thank you," she said. "I was clumsy, but the steps are awkward and my shoes are smooth." Dick was glad it was dark, for he felt confused. The girl had rested upon him for a moment and it had given him a thrill.