“Yes.”
“What did they say of your voice?”
“Miss Gladden seems to think I have a wonderful voice, and Mr. Houston said he had heard but one like it in all his life.”
Jack had risen, and was looking out of the window, his back toward Lyle; after a few moments he spoke, in an unusually gentle tone.
“You can say to Miss Gladden, that if she wishes to see me regarding you, she is welcome to come. Though I seldom receive callers, and have no wish to meet strangers, I am willing to meet a true friend of yours.”
“Then, under those conditions,” said Lyle, with almost a tone of triumph in her voice, “you would meet Mr. Houston.”
“Why?” asked Jack, quickly, turning toward her.
“Because he is my friend.”
Jack shook his head, and began pacing the room. “No,” he said, as gently as ever, but very firmly, “I would rather not meet him.”
Lyle looked troubled. “Jack,” she said earnestly, “you have always appeared rather peculiar regarding Mr. Houston; tell me candidly, are you his friend, or his enemy?”