"... met a man who said Romoulet wasn't teaching the belcanto at all.... O, I'm so afraid, dear, of ruining my voice.... So many people ..."
"Well, so long. I'm going to fetch my suitcase," said Wenny shortly. "I'll see you people later." He threaded his way out through groups of women and sallow men waiting for seats.
"I'm afraid your friend doesn't like me," said Betty Thomas pouting.
"He does, I assure you. He's a little diswrought today. He's often like that, isn't he Nan?"
Nan laughed, as she began fitting her gloves on again.
"Poor child.... All too often."
"It's no use taking it too seriously," said Fanshaw.
"No, I don't suppose one ought to take Wenny seriously," Nan whispered slowly, "And yet ..."
"Are we taking the car?" asked Betty Thomas.
"I'll come up as far as your place and then go on over to see Mother... I haven't been there all day," said Fanshaw. Career, he was thinking. Will Nan or this girl make careers? Career in music, diva, prima donna, like Ethel Barrymore in Tante, Adelina Patti; Doris Keene in Romance. Suites in hotels full of expensive flowers. For me a career wouldn't be like that. Too absurd, poor dear mother wanting me to have a lovely career. Epicurus would not have approved of a career.