“I fancy you are depreciating yourself too much. But it surprises me to hear that you don't sing. I always fancy that I can distinguish a musical person in a crowd, and you, in the expression of your face, in your movements, and most of all in your voice, seemed to reveal the musical soul.” “Did you really imagine all that?” returned Fan, reddening a little. “I am so sorry you were mistaken, for I do love music so much.” And then as he said nothing, but continued regarding her with some curiosity, she added naïvely, “I'm afraid, Mr. Eden, that I have very little intellect.” He laughed and answered, “You must let me judge for myself about that.” Mr. Eden was musical himself, although his constitutional indolence had prevented him from becoming a proficient in the art. Still, he could sing a limited number of songs correctly, accompanying himself, and he was heard at his best in a room in which the four walls were not too far apart, as his voice lacked strength, while good in quality. About nine o'clock Fan came in from the next room with her hat and jacket on to say good-bye. Mr. Eden started up with alacrity and begged her to let him see her home. “Oh, thank you, Mr. Eden, but you need not trouble,” she returned. “I am going to take an omnibus close by in the Uxbridge Road.” “Then you must let me see you safely in it,” he said; and as he insisted that it was time for him to go she could no longer refuse. The door closed behind them after many jocular words of farewell from Merton, and husband and wife were left to finish their evening in privacy. “Is it far to your home?” asked Eden. “I live in Marylebone,” she replied, giving a rather wide address. “But is that too far to walk? I fancy I know where Marylebone is--north of Oxford Street. Will it tire you very much to walk?” “Oh no, I love walking, but at night I couldn't walk that distance by myself, and so must ride.” “Then do let me see you home. You are an intimate friend of the Chances, and I am so anxious, now that I have met Merton, to hear something more about them. Perhaps you would not mind telling me what you know about their life and prospects.” “I will walk if you wish, Mr. Eden,” she returned after a moment's hesitation. “Mrs. Chance is my friend, and she was my teacher for a year in the country, before she married. But I couldn't tell you anything about their prospects, I know so little.” “Still, you know a great deal more about them than I do, and my only motive in seeking information is--well, not a bad one. I might be able to give them a little help in their struggles. It strikes me that Merton is not going quite the right way to work to get on in life, and that his wife is not too happy. Do you think I am right?”