And it was the big man with the violin who—who—who made her happy.
It was a miserable end to her childish dream of felicity, for she was brave enough to admit to herself without the least hesitation what it was that had happened.
And when Joyselle at length stopped playing and came back to sit by her, she smiled at him in very good imitation of her own smile of half an hour before.
But he was not satisfied.
"You did not like it?" he asked simply.
"Of course I did—it was splendid."
"Yet I could not hold you," he persisted, his vanity evidently a little hurt. He could not hold her!
"Didn't we like it, Théo?" she urged, turning to the young man.
"To tell the truth, I didn't hear a note," he admitted, not in the least shamefacedly. "I was looking at you."
"Lucky young beggar," laughed Joyselle, "small wonder! You two make a very pleasant picture," he added, "and in a year or two——"