“Yes, you are right; it is a very pretty cage.”
“Even a cage may be a home, I suppose.”
“Ask the canary.”
“And so turned to the basest uses,” says Mr. Moultrie, as if thinking aloud.
He is roused by a little ringing laugh:
“A pleasant idea of home you suggest, Mr. Moultrie.”
He smiles also.
“I do not wonder you laugh at me; but I mean sense, for all that,” he says.
“You usually do,” she says, sincerely, and eyes and solitaires glitter together.
Sligo Moultrie is happy—for one moment. The next he hears the musical bell of that other voice again. Miss Plumer turns in the very middle of a word which she has begun to address to him.