“I’ve told you, my dear man,” said Nancy impatiently. “I have planned my life so that my small daughter may have what I could not have. To indulge my own ambitions at her expense would be wrong. I can’t pretend that I’m denying myself much, because, to be honest, until I had your letter I had never contemplated myself as an operatic star. I knew I had an unusually good contralto voice. I knew that I could act as well as most women and a good deal better than some. Your letter was a pleasure, because it is always a pleasure to feel that one has interested somebody. I am grateful to you for inviting me out to supper and saying nice things about my possibilities. But now let’s talk of something else, for you’ll never infect me with any ambition to do anything that could risk my ability to do what I can for my daughter, just by acting quietly in the provinces as I am acting at present.” “Listen to me, Miss O’Finn,” said Kenrick earnestly. “I am a business man. That is my inheritance from a hard-working father. But I have one passion, and that is not business. My passion is the opera; my dream is to make enough money to be able to help the opera in England. But I am rich enough to do something for the individual artist, and I beg you to let me help you. Let me guarantee you what you would usually earn on the provincial stage. Let me pay for your lessons. The _maestro_ I want to teach you is an old friend of mine. If at the end of six months he tells me that you are not the finest contralto of the time, why, then you can go back to your life on tour. At the worst you will have spent six months in Italy to gratify the whim of an eccentric business man whose dreams are all of art. At the best you will be able to do what you like for your daughter in another ten years, and long, long before that. We’ll not talk about it any more to-night. Go home and sleep over my proposal. Think over it for a week. I must be back in town to-morrow. If at the end of a week you feel that you can risk six months in Italy to have the world at your feet, send me a line, and I will pay into your account the necessary funds. You can leave this absurd company when you like.” “Och, I would have to give a fortnight’s notice,” said Nancy quickly. Kenrick smiled. “Very well, give your fortnight’s notice. To-day is the eleventh. If you settle by next Saturday that will be the fifteenth. On the first of November you can quit the fogs and be on your way to Naples. It will probably be fine weather. It usually is about then in the south of Italy.” “You seem to have made up your mind that I’m going to accept your generosity,” Nancy said. “There is no generosity in gratifying one’s own desires,” Kenrick observed. “But if you have any feelings of pride on the subject, why, you can pay me back when your position is secure.” “But why, really, are you doing this?” Nancy asked, looking deep into the eyes of her host.