The girl looked at her with languid good humor. "I'd sing; but I can't. I have no parlor tricks," she said. "Besides, what's the use? Nobody wants it," and she smiled with appalling candor. Nell turned from her in despair, and met Lady Angleford's eyes bent upon her with smiling and friendly interest. Nell went up to her appealingly. "I want some one to sing or play--or do something, Lady Angleford," she said. Lady Angleford laughed, the comprehensive, American laugh which conveys so much. "And they won't? I know. It isn't worth while till the gentlemen come in," she said. "I know that--now. It used to puzzle me at first; but I know now. You English are so--funny! In America a girl is quite content to sing to her lady friends; but here--well, only men count as audience. They will all wake up when the men appear. I have learned that. Or perhaps you will play or sing?" Lady Wolfer was near enough to hear. "Yes, Nell, sing," she said, with a forced smile. Nell looked round shyly, then went to the piano. "That's the sweetest girl I've seen in England," said Lady Angleford to her neighbor, who happened to be the dowager duchess. Her grace put up her eyeglasses, with their long holder, and surveyed the slim, girlish figure on its way to the grand piano. "Yes? She's awfully pretty. And very young, too. A connection of the Wolfers', isn't she? Rather sad face." "A face with a history," said Lady Angleford, more to herself than the duchess. "Do you know anything about her, duchess?" Her grace shrugged her fat shoulders sleepily. "Nothing at all. She's here as a kind of lady companion, or something of the sort. Yes, she's pretty, decidedly. Are you going on to the Meridues' reception?" Nell sat down and played her prelude rather nervously; then she sang one of the songs which she had sung in The Cottage at Shorne Mills--one of the songs to which Drake had never seemed tired of listening. There was a lull in the lifeless, perfunctory conversation, and one or two of the sleepy women murmured: "Thank you! Thank you very much!" "Bravo! Sing us something else, Nell!" said Lady Wolfer. Nell was in the middle of the second song when the men filed in. Some of them came straight into the room and sought the women they wanted, others hung about the doors, and, hiding their yawns, glanced quite openly at their watches. The earl made his way to his wife where she was sitting by the fire, her eyes fixed on the flames, which she could just see over the top of her hand screen. "I have to go on to the Meridues' when these have gone," he said. "Are you coming, Ada?" She glanced up at him. His eyes were fixed on the bosom of her dress, on the spot where the white blossom had shone conspicuously, but shone no longer; and there was a wistful, yearning expression on his grave face. She did not raise her eyes. "I don't know. I may be tired. Perhaps I may follow you."