No, she was only a woman, with a soul for harmony.
"I beg your pardon," she said, "I thought it was Baby."
She went on, reassured, to an ending that came very soon. It left in me a desire for more, but I could not ask her to continue. She had brought a tiny bit of herself into the room, but she belonged body and soul to the mite in the other.
"I am ever so much obliged to you," I said, as she rose.
"Madame," said Gordon, "it was indeed a treat."
"I am very glad you liked it," she said very simply, "and—and now I must go back."
She smiled, faintly, and inclined her head. We had both risen and thanked her again. She passed out of the room and, once she had regained her own, I heard her faint, husky voice.
"It's mother's own wee lamb!" it said.