Mabel shook her head. "It won't break," she said. "As soon as you are married she will start thinking that she arranged the match and saying what a good one it is." Again Dick laughed, but there was more lightness in the sound now. He put his two hands on her shoulders and looked down at her. "You are a good sort, Mabel," he said; "this afternoon I thought you were the most horrible sister a man could have, and that just shows how little even I know you." "No," she answered; her eyes held a shadow of pain in them. "It is not that, it is just that a man in love is sometimes blind to everything and everybody excepting the woman he is in love with. She is a lucky girl, Dick, I nope she realizes how lucky." CHAPTER XXIII "But through all the joy I knew--I only-- How the hostel of my heart lay bare and cold, Silent of its music, and how lonely! Never, though you crown me with your gold. Shall I find that little chamber as of old!" F. BANNERMAN. Brown called an early rehearsal next morning. They were to play _The Waltz Dream_ as their last performance, for on leaving Sevenoaks the company was to break up, and just at the very last moment, before the curtain had come down on the previous night's performance, Grace Binning--the girl who usually played the part of Franzi--had fallen down and sprained her ankle. Who was to play her part? Fanny proposed Joan for the vacant place, but Brown was dubious, and Joan herself not at all anxious for the honour. She had more or less understudied the part, every member of the chorus took it in turn to understudy; but the question was whether it would not be better if Fanny's understudy took the part of the Princess and Fanny played Franzi. It was a character which she had often scored it. Against this had to be set the fact that Fanny's voice was needed for songs which the Princess had to sing, and that Franzi had very little singing to do. What she did have could be very largely cut. Anyway the whole company assembled at 10.30, and Brown put them through their paces. Finally he decided on Joan; she had already achieved popularity by her dancing, the audience would be kind to her. If she saved up her voice for her duet with Strachan and her one little solo at the fall of the curtain, Brown thought she might be heard beyond the footlights. "Now look slippy," he ordered, "only the principals need stay. We will just run through the thing, Miss Leicester, and see if you know what to do." Joan found herself living out the part of Franzi as she rehearsed. It seemed somehow to fit into her own feelings. "Now love has come to me, I pray, That while I have the chance to, I still may have the heart to play A tune that you can dance to."