They were still singing when Jack returned.
“Still at it!” he said manfully, from the background, chewing his little pipe.
Harriet looked round. She was just finishing the joyous moan of Plaisir d’amour, a song she loved because it tickled her so. “Dure toute la vie—i—i—ie—i—e,” she sang the concluding words at him, laughing in his face.
“You’re back early,” she said.
“Felt a mental twilight coming on,” he said, “so thought we’d better close down for the night.”
Harriet divined that, to use her expression, Somers had been “disagreeable to him.”
“Don’t you sing?” she cried.
“Me! Have you ever heard a cow at a gate when she wants to come in and be milked?”
“Oh, he does!” cried Victoria. “He sang a duet at the Harbour Lights Concert.”
“There!” cried Harriet. “How exciting! What duet did he sing?”