"Enjoyed it, did you?" she said, echoing his words. "How can you say so? I heard you talking the whole while!"
"Yes," said Fitz, who was radiant and eager to sing another in the same company, "it was too bad, and there's no escaping Mr. Leicester's voice."
"Thank you," said Leicester. "No one would wish to escape yours. Sing another, pray."
"Do you not sing, Mr. Leicester?" said Lady Lackland. "No? Mrs. Dodson, perhaps. Ethel, if Miss Mildmay is too hot, will you sing?"
Ethel rose obediently, and Leicester, in duty bound, led her to the piano.
So by clever maneuvering the countess had secured another ten minutes of happiness for Lord Fitz.
The song ended, Leicester stayed a little while at the piano, and then, after talking a few moments with Lady Lackland, strode back to Violet.
But Lord Fitz seemed to have taken possession of her, and Leicester sank back on the lounge in profound silence.
At last Mrs. Dodson dropped her fan. Fitz sprang across the room to pick it up, and Leicester regained his seat.
"It is very warm," said Violet.