It was not very skilfully done, but Lushington was grateful for what she meant by it, and for saying 'your mother' instead of 'Madame Bonanni.'
'I think you will be great, too,' he said, 'and before very long. There is no young soprano on the stage now, who has half your voice or half your talent.'
Margaret coloured with pleasure, though she could not quite believe what he told her. But he glanced at her and felt sure that he was right. She had voice and talent, he knew, but even with both some singers fail; she had the splendid vitality, the boundless health and the look of irresistible success, which only the great ones have. She was not a classic beauty, but she would be magnificent on the stage.
There was a short silence, before she spoke.
'Two days ago,' she said, 'I did not think we would meet again so soon.'
'Part again so soon, you ought to say,' he answered. 'It is nothing but that, after all.'
She bit her lip.
'Must we?' she asked, almost unconsciously.
'Yes. Don't make it harder than it is. Let's get it over. There's a cab.'
He held up his stick and signalled to the cabman, who touched his horse and moved towards them. Margaret stood still, with a half-frightened look, and spoke in a low voice.