He suddenly twisted his body, stuck out his under jaw, and said in a grim and determined voice which Charmian scarcely recognized as his: "I've got to down the Metropolitan crowd this winter. I've got to do it if I spend four hundred thousand dollars over it." He stared at Charmian, and added after a moment of silence: "And this is the only opera I've found that might help me to do it, though I've searched all Europe. So now you know just where we are. It's a fight, little lady! And it's up to us to be the top dogs at the finish of it." "And we will be the top dogs!" she exclaimed. From that moment she regarded Claude as a weapon in the fight which must be won if she were to achieve her great ambition. CHAPTER XXIX On a January evening in the following year Claude and Charmian had just finished dinner, and Claude got up, rather slowly and wearily, from the small table which stood in the middle of their handsome red sitting-room on the eighth floor of the St. Regis Hotel in New York. "How terribly hot this room is!" he said. "Americans like their rooms hot. But open a little bit of the window, Claudie." "If I do the noise of Fifth Avenue will come in." He spoke almost irritably, like a man whose nerves were tired. But Charmian did not seem to notice it. She looked bright, resolute, dominant, as she replied in her clear voice: "Let it come in. I like to hear it. It is the voice of the world we are here to conquer. Don't look at me like that, dear old boy, but open the window. The air will do you good. You're tired. I shouldn't have allowed you to work during the voyage." "I had to work." "Well, very soon you'll be able to rest, and on laurels." Claude went to open the big window, pulling aside the blind, while Charmian lighted a cigarette, and curled herself up on the padded sofa. And as, in a moment, the roar of the gigantic city swelled in a fierce crescendo, she leaned forward with the cigarette in her hand, listening intently, half smiling, with an eager light in her eyes. "What a city it is!" she said, as Claude turned and came toward her. "It makes London seem almost like a village. I'm glad it is here the opera is to be given for the first time." "So am I," he said, sitting down. But he spoke almost gloomily, looking at the floor. His face was white and too expressive, and his left hand, as it hung down between his knees, fluttered. He lifted it, turning the fingers inward. "Why?" Charmian said. He looked up at her. "Oh, I--they are all strangers here." She said nothing, and just then the telephone bell sounded. Mr. Alston Lake was below asking if Mr. Heath was in. In a moment he entered, looking enthusiastic, full of cheerfulness and vitality, bringing with him an atmosphere which Charmian savored almost greedily, of expectation and virile optimism. "My!" he said, as he shook them both by the hand. "You look settled in for the night." "So we are," said Charmian. Alston laughed.