“It is not so much mechanical skill that I lack; but there is something—I cannot tell what it is. I found it out one night when we were at Mrs. Saunders’s. She is an incurable flirt; and she was quite sure that she had captivated Ned, who is always ready to make love to anyone that will listen to him.” “A nice sort of man to be married to!” “He only does it to amuse himself. He does not really care for them: I almost wish he did, sometimes; but it is often none the less provoking. What is worse, no amount of flirtation on my part would make _him_ angry. What happened at Mrs. Saunders’s was this. The Scotts, of Putney, were there; and the first remark Ned made to me was, ‘Who is the woman that knows how to walk?’ It was Mrs. Scott: you know you used to say she moved like a panther. Afterward Mrs. Scott sang ‘Caller Herrin’ in that vulgar Scotch accent that leaks out occasionally in her speech, with Ned at the piano. Everybody came crowding in to listen; and there was great applause. I cannot understand it: she is as hard and matter-of-fact as a woman can be: I dont believe the expression in her singing comes one bit from true feeling. I heard Ned say to her, ‘Thank you, Mrs. Scott: no Englishwoman has the secret of singing a ballad as you have it.’ I knew very well what that meant. _I_ have not the secret. Well, Mrs. Scott came over to me and said ‘Mr. Conolly is a very _pair_tinaceous man. He persuaded me into shewing him the way the little song is sung in Scotland; and I stood up without thinking. And see now, I have been _rag_uilarly singing a song in company for the first time in my life.’ Of course, it was a ridiculous piece of affectation. Ned talked about Mrs. Scott all the way home, and played ‘Caller Herrin’ four times next day. That finished my domestic musical career. I have never sung for him since, except once or twice when he has asked me to try the effect of some passage in one of his music-books.” “And do you never sing when you go out, as you used to?” “Only when he is not with me, or when people force me to. If he is in the room, I am so nervous that I can hardly get through the easiest song. He never offers to accompany me now, and generally leaves the room when I am asked to sing.” “Perhaps he sees the effect his presence has on you.” “Even so, he ought to stay. He used to like _me_ to listen to _him_, at first.” Miss McQuinch looked at the sunset with exceeding glumness. There was an ominous pause. Then she said, abruptly, “You remember how we used to debate whether marriage was a mistake or not. Have you found out?” “I dont know.” “That sounds rather as if you did know. Are you quite sure you are not in low spirits this evening? He was bantering you about being out of temper when you came in. Perhaps you quarrelled at Kew.” “Quarrel! He quarrel! I cannot explain to you how we are situated, Nelly. You would not understand me.”