Perhaps this unwise antagonizing by her husband, perhaps the idleness with which the well-to-do woman was afflicted, perhaps a genuine liking for Keith, gave Mrs. Morrell just the impulse needed. At any rate, she used the common bond of music to bring him much into her company. This was not a difficult matter. Keith was extravagantly fond of just this sort of experimental amateur excursions into lighter music, and he liked Mrs. Morrell. She was a good sort, straightforward and honest and direct, no nonsense in her, but she knew her way about, and a man could have a sort of pleasing, harmless flirtation to which she knew how to play up. There was not, nor could there be--in Keith's mind--any harm in their relations. Nan was the woman for him; but that didn't mean that he was never to see anybody else, or that other women might not--of course in unessential and superficial ways--answer some of his varied needs. Mrs. Morrell was skilful at keeping up his interest, and she was equally skilful in gradually excluding Nan. This was not difficult, for Nan was secretly bored by the eternal practising, and repelled by Mrs. Morrell's efforts to be fascinating. She saw them plainly enough, but was at first merely amused and faintly disgusted, for she was proud enough to believe absolutely that such crude methods could have no effect on Milton, overlooking the fact that the crudities of women never appear as plainly to a man as they do to another woman. For a woman is in the know. At first she offered one excuse or another, in an attempt to be both polite and plausible. She much preferred a book at home, or a whole free evening to work at making her house attractive. Later, Keith got into the habit of taking her attitude for granted. "I promised to run over to the Morrells' this evening," he would say, "More music. Of course you won't care to come. You won't be lonely? I won't be gone late." "Of course not," she laughed. "I'm thankful for the chance to get through with the blue room." Nevertheless, after a time she began to experience a faint, unreasonable resentment; and Keith an equally faint, equally unreasonable feeling of guilt. Left to itself this situation would, therefore, have righted itself, but Mrs. Morrell was keen enough to give it the required directing touches: "Too bad we can't tear your wife away from her house and garden." "If you only had some one to practise with regularly at home! Your voice ought to be systematically cultivated. It is wonderful!" And later: "You ought not to come here so much, I suppose--" rather doubtfully, "Any sort of practice and accompaniment--even my poor efforts--does you so much good! You or I would understand perfectly, but it is sometimes so difficult for the inexperienced domestic type to comprehend! An older woman who understands men knows--but come, we must sing that once more."