“All right for you,” complained Packy, going over to the piano as Twink obediently climbed forth from the recesses of the lounge. He stood looking down at Joy’s lovely white face, his leisurely eyelids not quite so far down over his eyes as was their habit. “I told you I’d fallen in love with you,” he said swiftly, “and I thought I meant it then, but now I realise I’ve never really meant anything before. I’ve fallen for you so hard that it’s no idle jest. You did it, you know. You should never sing like that to a fellow.” Joy looked up at him with parted lips through which no words came. This was what one called “slinging a line.” But didn’t he do it well! “You’ve got to see me soon,” he said. “You’ve got to go to the Harvard-Yale baseball game first. After that—there’ll be lots of other things. I’ll call you up.” They were gone, and she turned to Jerry with comment which crumbled as she saw Jerry’s intent attitude. She was standing by the fireplace with her foot on the fender, her freckles puckered into concentration. “Of course you must realize the voice you have,” she said slowly. “It’s gold—gold clear through. Raw gold, of course—but gold. It’s the kind of voice which, if I had, I would go through hell’s seventy furies to train and refine until I was at the pinnacle of my possibility—which means the top of the world. You’ve got everything to put you there.” She stopped with a sigh. “We’ll turn in now, and talk it over to-morrow.” “Sarah?” Joy questioned as they went down the hall. “Sal? She’ll sleep right through till to-morrow—she’s been run pretty ragged lately.” The morrow found Joy more at home in her new quarters, as her luggage had come and she was refreshed by sleep that was not disturbed until late in the morning. Sarah appeared in her kimono, her hair in a dead-looking braid, while Jerry and Joy were picking up a sketchy breakfast in the kitchenette. Jerry had explained the big club-room—the partition between an already large living-room and the dining-room had been removed. Hence there was no dining-room, and as Jerry said, they didn’t really need one. When they were home, they ate in the kitchen, and as for having guests: “most men hate to eat formally, anyway. They like to come out in the kitchen, and then we have chafing-dish parties or sent-up spreads in the living-room.” Sarah expressed a moderate amount of pleasure at seeing Joy, permitting a line or so to cross her brow at the same time. Her attention was diverted as she seemed on the point of making additional remarks, by Jerry’s information: “Packy was here last night, by the way.” “Packy was here? Why didn’t you wake me?” “Oh, I forgot to. He didn’t bring it back to my memory, either. He saw Joy first.” Sarah’s look was not amiable. She turned and left the kitchen, muttering something about dressing. “Oh, Jerry, what did you say that for?” Joy demanded. “Is she in love with him?”