"And Ned isn't dull, is he?" said Nan.
"Ned dull! I guess not!" I said.
And while I stood with Nan tearful and discouraged against my shoulder, I could hear the patter of the fountain tinkling up from the patio, and the voices of men and girls, and the music of some kind of a native instrument; and the song was of home and love by a man to a girl. And do you know?—no matter what we think of their politics and so on—those men down that country do seem to be able to put something terribly sad into their voices when they sing, and somebody somewhere has said that no man who loves but is more often sad than gay. And it made no difference—it may have been some low-built kitchen girl he was singing to, and he one of the hotel porters loafing on his job—not a mite of difference. The melody of it rose up and clutched me. And Nan clinging to me—I could feel it clutching her, too. And I knew that for Larry behind the lattice—it was hard work staying where he was; and as for myself—I hadn't seen my Ned in almost a year, and, thinking of Ned and his ways, I felt all at once terribly lonesome and like crying with Nan. And then a vision of the arrogant beauty down-stairs came suddenly to my mind. But now without my being so afraid. It would be safe enough now, I thought, to have Larry and Nan meet in her presence.
"Let us go down-stairs now, Nan," I said. "We can look at the dancing. That Miss Whiffle, they say, is a wonderful dancer."
"Yes, but let me look at the children again, Nettie," said Nan. "I love to see them asleep. Isn't it wonderful to you, Nettie, to think of your having children of your own—nobody else's but your own?"
"And Ned's," I said.
"Of course. You wouldn't give them up for anything, would you, Nettie, in all the world? Why, Nettie, I'd go down on my knees and scrub floors like the old women in the office-buildings every night of my life in thankfulness to have such lovely little babies of my own!"
"Hush, Nan!" I said, thinking of Larry in hiding.
"And Larry, Nettie—wouldn't Larry love to have children of his own!"
Before she could say any more I hurried her away to look at the children, and also to give Larry time to make his escape. And after Nan had cuddled them we headed for the stairs, I wondering just how I could let Larry see us after we got there. And while descending the stairs we heard a rifle-shot, and another, and another, and then dozens of shots.