So she went back to the Academy, and plunged into her work with renewed vigour; and tried her very hardest to banish Geoffrey Milnes from her memory. She was kinder to David than heretofore, and only allowed him to see the lighter side of her nature, so that he found her greatly improved for the better. He had obtained a good post as commercial traveller to a large firm of manufacturers, and was only in London at the week-ends--an arrangement which suited Celia very well, for it left her free to follow her own devices during the week, and also prevented her from seeing too much of him. He tried to persuade her continually to give up her musical studies, and marry him as soon as her term of mourning expired; but she was determined to go on with her music, and seemed less inclined to think of marriage than ever. She was making good progress at the Academy, and thoroughly enjoyed her musical life. Mr. Lambert still refused to allow her to sing at any concert, but she was coming to the fore with her elocution and acting, in which she was greatly encouraged by the dramatic author, Guy Haviland. The Havilands lived in a pretty house in St. John’s Wood, within easy distance of Maida Vale. Celia went there frequently, either to have a good romp with the children--which she enjoyed immensely,--or to recite a fresh poem to the master of the house, or to sing a new song with Enid Wilton at the piano, and Grace Haviland to play a violin _obliggato_. Miss Haviland was a fresh-looking girl, five years younger than her brother, and, besides being a very fair violinist, was a writer of verse. One or two of her lyrics Celia sang, to music composed by Enid Wilton; and as they had so much interest in common, the three girls were great chums. Mrs. Friedberg felt a little bit piqued that Celia was not more friendly with her own girls. She took them with her to the Academy, it was true, and gave them tickets for concerts, but she never told them anything about herself; and after she had been with them a year, they knew her very little better than on the day she had arrived. Adeline had introduced her to some of her friends, and had given her frequent opportunities for going into young Jewish society, but Celia was unresponsive, and held herself aloof--or so it seemed to Mrs. Friedberg. She took her to task for it one day, and read her such a lesson on her unsociability, that the poor girl was quite distressed. “You know I haven’t time, really, Mrs. Friedberg,” she said in extenuation. “Besides, I am in mourning now. But I am going to pay Mrs. Leopold Cohen a visit this afternoon, so you see I am not very unsociable, after all.”