(Exit Mrs. Denham. Denham begins to paint.)
Denham.
Well, you mysterious creature, I think you have chosen your profession well. Your voice is lovely, and your style—well, not bad in these days of execrable singing.
Mrs. Tremaine.
Do you know, it was your praise that made me think seriously of this?
Denham.
(absorbed in painting) Really? But why would you never sing to me since that evening?
Mrs. Tremaine.
I have been working so hard; I wanted to surprise you.
Denham.