"And, as you say in America, it is a very good ad. Why, checks are simply pouring in! And there is to be a concert given next week. I was talking to some of the ladies about it to-day. One of them knew you well. She said you played accompaniments for her last winter. Mrs.... Mrs...."
"Mrs. Condor?" Claire asked, faintly.
"Yes, that is her name! She is going to open the program. And she was saying how nice it would be if you would consent to play for her. You know I never would have thought of that. I told her yes! Of course! You would be delighted."
Claire stared. Lily Condor's audacity was arresting enough in all conscience, but Danilo's calm disposition of the matter rankled. Had it not occurred to him that she might have something to say about such an arrangement?
"Well, really, you know," she began to stammer, in spite of a wish to give her words an air of finality. "I don't think that I...."
"Nonsense!" he returned, genially. "It has all been decided upon. In fact, we have had the announcements put in the hands of the printer already. Mrs. Condor said you had played the same program before, so what was the use in delaying? Remember," he finished, with a laugh, "you are to be my wife, and in my country the first thing a wife learns is obedience."
It was impossible for her to explain her objections—they involved too many issues—and she could not discuss Danilo's viewpoint without seeming to be turning an inconsequential matter to very serious account. But she did gather courage to say:
"Next time I wish you would speak to me before you make plans of that kind."
Danilo frowned.