"I could see he was prepared to be bored; so I made up my mind to—sing! I was nettled—very childish, I admit it—but I was nettled. I didn't watch him while I sang—I couldn't. I did better than I expected.
"You forgot everything," cried Sam Walford, "I know!"
"I did, yes. I didn't think of Pincocca, or of him, or of anybody in the room. When I had finished, he came up to me, and said, 'Mr. Walford, I am green with jealousy. Ah, Heaven! if I could command such a career!' The man was Lassalle."
"Flattering?" shouted his father to Kent.
"Flattering? 'If I could command such a career!' Eh?"
Kent asked himself speechlessly if this thing could be.
"If I could command such a career!'" declaimed Mr. Walford. "What do you think of that? He's coming out in the spring, you know."
"Yes, so I've heard," said Humphrey. "Where?"
"That's not settled; here in town, I expect, at Covent Garden. He sang to the manager last week. The man was—was staggered."
"Ha!" said Kent perfunctorily.