“Nothing,” Doris returned quietly.
She felt that if he continued to plague her she surely would disgrace herself by saying something which would offend the Gates sisters. How could they like such a man? He was cheap and coarse and obviously insincere.
“Poor things,” she told herself. “They haven’t had much attention from men and it flatters them.”
The tension was somewhat relieved when Iris asked Kitty if she could sing or play the piano.
“I’m not in the least musical,” Kitty returned, “but Doris sings beautifully.”
Upon being urged to entertain the group, Doris obediently went to the piano. After looking over the music she selected a familiar piece, struck a few chords, and began to sing. A hush fell over the group, and even Ronald Trent, who was talking to Iris, became quiet.
“Lovely,” Azalea murmured when she had finished. “You have a wonderful voice.”
“Pretty keen,” Ronald Trent agreed, “but can’t you sing something livelier? I don’t like them church hymns.”
“You call those songs church hymns?” Doris asked with an amused smile. “Really, if you want popular music, I can’t oblige you. My teacher permits me to sing only classical.”
After she had left the piano, Ronald Trent launched into a lengthy tale concerning his recent exploits in South America. In many particulars the story did not hang together, and Doris and Kitty were bored. Iris and Azalea were flattering listeners and, whenever he showed signs of pausing, urged him on with interested questions.