“Curiosity killed the cat,” was Janet’s evasive reply.
Donald had no penchant for social functions, but this lively party was a grateful respite from a whole winter of lonely evenings, and he entered into the spirit of the occasion wholeheartedly.
A game of whist and then the big rooms were cleared and they danced until a late hour. At Donald’s request Janet sang for them. Her rich contralto voice seemed to fill the room and set the air pulsing with sweet harmony. She sang a song of love and passion that seemed to bear Donald into another world. As he turned the final sheet and the last liquid note travelled through the rooms he roused himself as though from a spell. That voice! How strangely it affected him! He looked down to find Janet’s dark eyes fixed on his.
“Will you please sing again?” he implored.
“The same?” she questioned softly.
He nodded. Donald’s gaze travelled from the flying white fingers to the lovely face of the singer. As their eyes met Janet’s face flushed slightly, and at the finish of the verse she changed quickly to a rollicking song of the sea. “All join in,” she called merrily over her shoulder.
After Janet’s other guests had departed Donald, Douglas and Janet sat for an hour chatting by the large fireplace.
“May I go with you as far as Squamish to-morrow?” asked Janet.
“Certainly, Sis.”
“And when the railroad is through I will visit you,” she added.