Five minutes of solitude spent in going over every look and word of the lovely creature he had won, were enough for Jack. He found them seated at the window; Una in a low chair, almost at Mrs. Davenant's feet. They both looked up, as if glad to see him; and Mrs. Davenant at once rang for tea and coffee. Una rose, and officiated with calm self-possession and accustomed ease--no one would have guessed that her acquaintance with a London drawing-room, and its accompanying forms and ceremonies, was only that of a few weeks--and brought Jack his cup. In taking it, he tried to touch her hand, and nearly upset the cup. "Take care, my dear Jack," said Mrs. Davenant. "Has he spoiled your dress, my dear?" "No," said Una, her face red as a rose. "It was my fault." "Yes; it was her fault," said Jack, significantly. "You always were clumsy, my dear Jack," said Mrs. Davenant. "You are too big." "I'll get myself cut down a foot or two," said Jack. Happy! They were as happy as any two women in London, notwithstanding Jack's wickedness. Jack glanced at the piano. "I wish you could play," he said to Una. Mrs. Davenant looked at him. "How do you know she cannot?" she said. Jack looked embarrassed. "I rather fancy I heard U--Miss Rolfe--admit as much. But she can sing, I know." "And you can play for her," said Mrs. Davenant. "You used to play very nicely when you were a boy," and she sighed. Jack looked dubious for a moment, then, with sudden assurance and confidence, jumped up. "Let me try. Will you come, Miss Rolfe?" Una followed him to the piano, and Jack turned out all the music from the canterbury on the floor. "Come and see if there is anything you know," he said, and Una knelt down beside him. Of course Jack's hand was on hers in a moment. "I nearly let the cat out of the bag just then," he said. "I must be careful." "But why?" asked Una. "Why may we not----" she paused, then, having raised her eyes, she continued--"why may she not know?" "So she shall," said Jack, "all in good time. I can't consent to share my secret all in one evening! Besides----" "Cannot you find anything," said Mrs. Davenant, sleepily, from the next room. Jack stuck up some music on the stand and sat down. He had played well at one time, in a rough fashion, and had a wonderful ear, and, quite regardless of the music, he launched into a prelude. "Sing the song you sang the other evening, my darling," he whispered. "I remember every note of it." Una obeyed instantly. Free from any spark of vanity, she knew nothing of the shyness which assails self-conscious people. Jack, with his acute ear, played a running accompaniment easily enough; it was true he had remembered every note of it. "You nightingale," he whispered, looking up at her, and the fervent admiration of his eyes made her heart throb. "Now sing something yourself, Jack," said Mrs. Davenant.