Corinne was speaking now, and he was answering. He even laughed at something she said. But the train of his thoughts rumbled steadily on. After the coffee they all carried out the dishes and washed them. Henry amused them by wearing a full-length kitchen apron. Corinne tied the strings around his waist. He found an excuse to reach back, and for an instant his hands covered hers. She laughed a little. He danced about the kitchen and sang comic songs as he wiped dishes and took them to the china closet in the butler's pantry. This chore finished, they went to the living-room. Mrs Henderson said: 'Oh, Corinne, you must hear Henry sing “When Britain Really Ruled” from _Iolanthe_.' She found the score and played for him. He sang lustily, all three verses. 'Too much dinner,' he remarked, beaming with pleasure, at the close. 'Voice is rotten.' 'It's a good organ,' said Corinne. 'You ought to work at it.' 'Perfect shame he won't study,' said Mrs Henderson. Henry found _The Geisha_ on the piano. 'Come on, Corinne,' he cried. 'Do the “Jewel of Asia.” Mrs Henderson'll transpose it.' Corinne leaned carelessly against the piano and sang the pleasant little melody with an ease and a steady flow of tone that brought a shine to Henry's eyes. He had to hide it, dropping on the big couch and resting his head on his hand. He could look nowhere but at her. He ordered her to sing 'The Amorous Goldfish.' She fell into the spirit of it, and moved away from the piano, looking provocatively at Henry, gesturing, making an audience of him. She even danced a few steps at the end. Henry sprang up. The power was upon him. Obstacles, difficulties, the little scene with Humphrey, while not forgotten, were swept aside. He was irresistible. 'Tell you what,' he said gaily, with supreme ease--'w'e'll send those Chicago men a box of poisoned candy to-morrow, and--oh, yes w-e will!--and then we'll have a party at the rooms. You'll be chaperon, Mrs Henderson and Hump'll cook things in the chafing dish, and----' 'What a perfectly lovely idea!' said Mrs Henderson in a surprisingly calm voice. 'I'll bring the cold chicken, and a vegetable salad... Henry watched Corinne. For an instant--she was rummaging through the music--her eyes met his. 'It'll be fun,' she said. Henry felt a shock as if he had plunged unexpectedly, headlong, into ice-water; then a glow. He was a daring soul. They didn't understand him in Sunbury. He had temperament, a Bohemian nature. The thing was, he'd wasted two years trying to make another sort of himself. Kept account of every penny in a red book! All that! Book was in his pocket now. He decided to tear it up. He wouldn't be a coward another day. That plodding self-discipline hadn't got him anywhere. Now really, had it?