Besides being an intriguer, Lissa reflected Mark’s fame. She never lost an opportunity with which to have their names associated, to call herself a “romantic old sister to the dear lad,” or appear at his recitals to sing some lightweight thing with the high, phenomenal note which alone won applause. “It seems to me,” Collin said to Thurley one June afternoon when they were enduring a recital of Lissa’s songs at a lawn fête, “that God started in to give Lissa a wonderful voice. He began with this tiptop note and then, as He realized what she was bound to be in spite of every one concerned, He did not bestow anything else on her, but she must have slipped down to earth pirating that note for surely it was meant to be taken away from her!” Thurley nodded her gratitude for his expression and Polly, who was sitting on Collin’s other side, gave vent to an impudent giggle. “Thurley, did you know people say that ‘Miss Precore is a recluse’?” Polly asked her a moment later. “That she refuses to sing for charity?” “Of course Miss Precore has not worked all winter, oh, no,” Thurley’s temper flared up. “Polly and Collin, I tell you both that I am tired even to my professional expression. Look at Lissa—look at Mark—look here,” she began, pointing out other salubrities and celebrities who were murmuring or warbling “poor bleeding Europe” in properly guttural tones. Polly was thoughtful and when Collin roused her to explain why, she said, “Suppose we go to war, Thurley, what then?” “We’ll do what is needed,” Thurley said in as sharp fashion as Hobart could have replied. Hortense Quinby came searching the audience to deliver a telegram to Thurley, delighted with her opportunity to appear important. It was a good-by note from Hobart and of no importance, so Thurley thought as she read it: _Dear Thurley_— Leaving for my vacation to-night and sorry not to say good-by, will send up the new operas I told you about—don’t waste this summer B. H. She rose and excused herself from the entertainment, which caused half the audience to say that “Thurley Precore liked to create scenes” and the other half “she was a purse-proud young woman with no patriotism.” Polly and Collin stayed the performance out, since two of the women Collin had painted were taking part in the tableaux and had sent him those telling three-cornered notes on mauve linen requesting that he see them as “France Enraged” and “Belgium at Bay.” Polly stayed because Collin stayed. After the next number was well under way, Collin, stroking that mad, blond beard of his, asked, “What’s wrong with Thurley? She’s not been herself all winter and she is going off in her voice.”