“That’s because you’re so good and charitable; they’re not fit for you to touch. I can see that now. In a roomful of men that are thinking of nothing but noise and diversion, such things are all very well; but for your hands to touch, no, no--I see it all now.” There was in Dolff’s voice a tone of touching regret. He felt the sacrifice he was making, yet he was ready to lay it at the feet of his lady. Between amusement and a certain pleasure in his devotion Janet’s countenance shone. “I can’t allow you,” she said, “to make such a sacrifice. You must have something to amuse you in the evenings; and your mother likes to hear you sing. Never mind if they are a little--well! some of them are quite nice--they are not all vulgar. I will show you the ones I like best.” “Will you be so very, very kind to me, Miss Summerhayes? It is out of the goodness of your heart, I know. Yes, my mother likes it, and she has good reason. I used always to be going out of nights getting into bad company. I can tell _you_, Miss Janet, though I could not tell anyone else. Poor mother was anxious about me, of course. But now I have no wish to go out at night. The Strand may be in Timbuctoo for anything I care. I never want to spend an evening away from home. So long as you will go on playing them--the best of them, don’t you know--you will make both mother and me happy.” “Well,” said Janet, “it is very easily done: and there are some others that I think would suit your voice. We might go over them together.” Dolff turned quickly round as if he would have seized her hand, but overawed by the imposing vision of Janet, who met his eager look with a slight elevation of her head and withdrawal from his side, drew back again a little shyly. But he was beaming with happiness and gratitude. “If you will do that for me, Miss Summerhayes,” he said, “I can’t tell you how happy you will make me.” He paused a moment, and then gave vent to a laugh. “Gussy and Meredith may think they’re very grand,” he said; “they look down upon me as if I was a clown at the circus; but just you stand by me, Miss Summerhayes,” he said, with a little break in his voice; “by Jove, we’ll put them on their mettle!” Dolff was so delighted with the future joys which he saw before him that he smote his manly thigh in exultation. His face was crimsoned with pleasure and satisfaction, shining behind the faint shadows thrown upon it by his colorless hair and light mustache. He was happy and he was proud, doubly repaid for the genuine humility which had prompted his sacrifice. Janet had made him feel his coarseness and imperfection. It was with all the greater exultation that he felt himself mounting up with her into a higher place. “You must remember, Mr. Harwood,” said Janet, “that Mr. Meredith has a beautiful voice. There are not many people that have a voice like that.” “Do you really think so?” said Dolff, somewhat crestfallen. “He thinks a deal of it himself, I know.”