White was the handsome face, whiter the proud shoulders above the cut-out bodice. Scarlet was the carnation worn just under the ear, and vividly scarlet were the made-up lips of this new performer.
"Whoever is it?" ejaculated Peggy, loudly, and then clapped a hand over her mouth. But there was a perceptibly louder buzz in the talk all over the hall.
"Say; who's she?"
"Isn't she beautiful?"
"Lovely figure——"
"Little bit o' Dixie, eh?"
"Sssh—— The Captain's goin' to make a speech about her!"
For Captain Holiday had stepped forward from his place by the piano and had, with a sort of little laughing flourish, taken the lovely creature's black-gloved hand.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he announced, "as an extra, my friend Signora Dolores has kindly consented to sing an old-fashioned song, entitled 'Carissima.'"
He went back to his seat. Muriel at the piano, with an unexpectedly sweet smile towards this rival beauty, this wonderful stranger who was to sing, struck the first rippling chords of an accompaniment.