The room was filling again. People began to settle down expectantly; McEwan struck his opening chords. Just as Mary's first note sounded, Stefan and Felicity entered the room. He started in surprise; then Mary saw him smile delightedly, and they both settled themselves well in front. “'Men were deceivers ever,'” sang Mary, with simple ease, and “'Hey nonny, nonny.'” The notes fell gaily; her lips and eyes smiled. There was generous applause at the end of the little song. Then McEwan struck the first chords of the duet. “'My true love hath my heart,'” Mary sang clearly, head up, eyes shining. “'My true love hath my heart,'” replied McEwan, in his cheery barytone. “'--And I have his,'” Mary's bell tones announced. “'--And I have his,'” trolled McEwan. “'There never was a better bargain driven,'” the notes came, confident and glad, from the golden figure with its clear-eyed, glowing face. They ended in a burst of almost defiant optimism. Applause was hearty and prolonged. McEwan slipped from his stool and sought a cigarette in the adjoining room. There was a general congratulatory movement toward Mary, in which both Stefan and Felicity joined. Then people again began to break into groups. Felicity found her sofa, Mary a chair. McEwan discovered Farraday under the arch between the two drawing-rooms, and stood beside him to watch the crowd. Stefan had moved with Felicity toward her sofa, and, as she disposed herself, she seemed to be talking to him in French. McEwan and Farraday continued their survey. Mary was surrounded by people, but her eyes strayed across the room. Felicity appeared almost animated, but Stefan seemed inattentive; he fidgeted, and looked vague. A moment more, and quite abruptly he crossed the room, and planted himself down beside Mary. “Ah,” sighed McEwan, apparently à propos of nothing, and with a trace of Scotch, “James, I'll now hae another whusky.” PART III THE NESTLING I Stefan's initial and astonishing success was not to be repeated that winter. The great Constantine, anxious to benefit by the flood tide of his client's popularity, had indeed called at the studio in search of more material, but after a careful survey, had decided against exhibiting “Tempest” and “Pursuit.” Before these pictures he had stood wrapped in speculation for some time, pursing his lips and fingering the over-heavy seals of his fob. Mary had watched him eagerly, deeply curious as to the effect of the paintings. But Stefan had been careless to the point of rudeness; he had long since lost interest in his old work. When at last the swarthy little dealer, who was a Greek Jew, and had the keen, perceptions of both races, had shaken his head, Mary was not surprised, was indeed almost glad.