“Yes, but you only used my voice as an excuse for the rest,” Nancy argued. “Your main thought in getting me out to Italy was to make me your mistress. Apparently I must have given you the impression that your trouble was worth while. Yet when you invited me to come with you to Sorrento on this holiday, why did you ask me to treat you as a friend? As a matter of fact, the idea that you wanted to make love to me did pass through my mind, but you drove away the fancy by the way you spoke, as if you knew that I suspected your reasons and wanted to reproach me for my nasty mind. Did you or did you not expect that I would give myself to you here?” “It was here that I first thought that you were growing fond of me,” Kenrick said evasively. “I can tell you the exact moment. It was yesterday afternoon when you put your hand on my arm.” “I _was_ growing fond of you. But not in that kind of way,” she said. “Naturally I was growing fond of you. You had, as I thought, done a great deal for me. I was grateful; and when you seemed depressed I wanted to comfort you.” “Nancy, let’s cut out to-night and blame the moon.” She shook her head. “I can’t. I know myself too well. Just to give you pleasure because I owe you a great deal, I would like beyond anything to cut out to-night and go on with my singing. But the moment I was alone I’d begin to fret. I haven’t enough confidence in my success as a singer. For one thing, now that you’ve told me that you were attracted to me personally at Bristol I feel that you’ve thought my voice better than it is. Suppose at the end of another five or six months Gambone shouldn’t consider me worthy of being pushed along? I’d have nothing to fall back upon. I’d have failed myself and my daughter and you, artistically, and I’d have failed you in the only way that might compensate you for that failure.” “But if the risk is mine and I’m willing to accept it, why must you worry?” “It’s no good. I know myself. I know that I couldn’t endure taking your money under those conditions.” “But you aren’t seriously proposing to give up your lessons and leave Naples simply because I’ve told you that I’m in love with you?” “Yes, yes, I am. I’m going back to-morrow.” “But how will you explain your sudden return to your friends?” “I haven’t so very many friends to bother about. But I shall tell those I have that my voice wasn’t good enough to make it worth while going on.” Kenrick flung himself into a chair and poked the logs savagely. “You make me feel such a clumsy brute,” he groaned. “Can’t I find any argument that will make you change your mind?” “None.” “But at any rate you aren’t serious about paying me back the trifling sum I’ve spent on you?” “I am indeed.”