Peter wondered if, when she opened her mouth to sing, her origin would be betrayed. He felt nervous for her and for Sheila, who, he saw was rather pale as she took her place at the piano. But the first few notes dissipated his fears; the tone was pure as a bird's, full and rich; and the singer, he was aware, was thinking entirely of the music so that the audience did not alarm her. People looked at one another with amazement. The fact that the singer at Sheila's party was to be none other than the girl who had been a tramp but two years ago had leaked out, and the audience were in a state of amused expectation as they waited for her. But when they caught sight of her moving slowly towards them, they came to the conclusion that the news they had heard could have no foundation whatever. This lovely girl in the pale sea green dress could certainly never have been a tramp; and as the first notes escaped her lips they sat in astonished silence. Such a voice had not been heard for many years round about Friars Court. Where could she have come from? Sheila flushed with pleasure as her eyes caught Peter's. That he was pleased and surprised she saw at once, also that the audience was entranced. Meg's song over she took refuge in the drawing-room. She was afraid of talking after Sheila's advice to be silent, but she felt strangely excited. She had pleased her friend and had surpassed herself. That her singing had given supreme satisfaction she could not doubt, and that this audience had appreciated her voice quite as much if not more than her former audiences used to do, she was well aware. She had been thankful too to find that even when she stood up before the fashionably dressed crowd, she was no more nervous than when she had stood on the chair in the kitchen that day, which now seemed so long ago. The feeling of elation of which she was conscious was not born of conceit, but simply of delight that she had satisfied those for whom she cared. Sheila and Peter were pleased, that was all that signified. It seemed to her that only a few minutes had passed when Peter came to the drawing-room window telling her that they were waiting for another song. "They are impatient to hear you again," he said smiling, "and so am I. I never expected anything like this." "I'm glad," said Meg, her eyes shining. She was hardly aware of the clapping that heralded her approach, so delighted was she at the reception Sheila herself gave her; it excited her so, that for the first moment her voice trembled as she began her song, but before many bars were sung, she forgot Sheila and her audience and was conscious of nothing save the music which she was making and which delighted her soul. A murmur of applause broke on her ear as the last notes trembled on the air.