"Must! I might jump over the moon if I had a broomstick."
"It's got to be managed somehow."
"Then you're not disappointed in the way it sounds, close up?"
She stood beside him, leaning against the piano, her face flushed, her breath rapid, searching his face eagerly. Peter knew that it was only the dormant artist in her seeking the light, but he thrilled warmly at her nearness, for she was very lovely. Peter's acquaintance with women had been varied, but, curiously enough, each meeting with this girl instead of detracting had only added to her charm.
"No. I'm not disappointed in it," he said quite calmly, every impulse in him urging a stronger expression. But he owed a duty to himself. Noblesse oblige! It was one of the mottoes of his House—(not always followed—alas!). With a more experienced woman he would have said what was in his mind. He would probably have taken her in his arms and kissed her at once, for that was really what he would have liked to do. But Beth....
Perhaps something in the coolness of his tone disconcerted her, for she turned away from the piano.
"You're very kind," she said quietly.
He had a feeling that she was about to slip away from him, so he got up.
"Won't you sing again, Beth?"
But she shook her head. For some reason the current that had run between them was broken. As she moved toward the door, he caught her by the hand.