"Almost—if angels play. You make me forget——" she paused.
"What——?"
"That's there's anything in the world except beauty."
In the drawing-room Freddy, having found himself, had swept into a song of the cabarets, to which there was a "close harmony" chorus.
"There's that——," he muttered, jerking a thumb in the direction from which he had come.
But she shook her head. "No," she said. "That's different."
"How—different?"
As she groped for and found the word he stared at her in astonishment. And in her eyes back of the joy that seemed to be always dancing in them he saw the shadows of a sober thought.
"But don't you like dance music?" he asked.