"He was persistent but perfectly respectful; asked if he might confer with you. He wrote to you I think, didn't he?" Malcourt nodded and lighted a cigarette. "Dolly," he said, "do you want to sing _Chaske_ in 'The Inca' next winter?" "Yes, I do--if you think it is all right." She added in a low voice: "I want to do what will please you, Louis." "I don't know whether it's the best thing to do, but--you may have to." He laid his cigarette in a saucer, watched the smoke curling ceilingward, and said as though to himself: "I should like to be certain that you can support yourself--within a reasonable time from now--say a year. That is all, Dolly." "I can do it now if you wish it--" The expression of his face checked her. "I don't mean a variety career devoted to 'mother' songs," he said with a sneer. "There's a middle course between diamonds and 'sinkers.' You'll get there if you don't kick over the traces.... Have you made any more friends?" "Yes." "Are they respectable?" "Yes," she said, colouring. "Has anybody been impertinent?" "Mr. Williams." "I'll attend to him--the little squirt!... Who are your new friends?" "There's a perfectly sweet girl in the French class, Marguerite Barret. I think she likes me.... Louis, I don't believe you understand how very happy I am beginning to be--" "Do people come here?" "Yes, on Sunday afternoons; I know nearly a dozen nice girls now, and those men I told you about--Mr. Snyder, Mr. Jim Anthony and his brother the artist, and Mr. Cass and Mr. Renwick." "You can cut out Renwick," he said briefly. She seemed surprised. "He has always been perfectly nice to me, Louis--" "Cut him out, Dolly. I know the breed." "Of course, if you wish." He looked at her, convinced in spite of himself. "Always ask me about people. If I don't know I can find out." "I always do," she said. "Yes, I believe you do.... You're all right, Dolly--so far.... There, don't look at me in that distressed-dove fashion; I _know_ you are all right and mean to be for your own sake--" "For yours also," she said. "Oh--that's all right, too--story-book fidelity; my preserver ever!--What?--Sure--and a slow curtain.... There, there, Dolly--where's your sense of humour! Good Lord, what's changing you into a bread-and-butter boarding-school sentimentalist!--to feel hurt at nothing! Hello! look at that kitten of yours climbing your silk curtains! Spank the rascal!" But the girl caught up the kitten and tucked it up under her chin, smiling across at Malcourt, who had picked up his hat, gloves, and stick. "Will you come to-morrow?" she asked. "I'm going away for a while." Her face fell; she rose, placed the kitten on the lounge, and walked up to him, both hands clasped loosely behind her back, wistfully acquiescent. "It's going to be lonely again for me," she said. "Nonsense! You've just read me your visiting list--" "I had rather have you here than anybody."