Almost without knowing it, Jaquelina arose and went over to the piano, standing by Violet, who was turning the leaves of the music.
He glanced up at her with a slight smile, and she saw that his blue-gray eyes were sparkling with pleasure or excitement—they were glittering starry black.
"He has the sweetest tenor voice in the country," Violet whispered to her. "Is it not a perfect treat to hear him sing?"
Jaquelina thought so, but she only whispered "Yes," very faintly. She did not wish to lose a note of the perfect strains.
At last he rose abruptly.
"I have made you all twice thankful," he laughed. "That is my worst fault. When I am induced to play I never know when to stop."
No one could be induced to touch the piano after Ronald Valchester had played—his music was too superior to anyone else's. They all went out on the lawn again. Some danced—some wandered under the trees. Among these latter was Jaquelina.
She was walking with Walter Earle again, and Violet with Ronald Valchester.
It was growing far into the night. Some of the lights had burned low; the moon was about to go down. The trees grew thick where they were walking, and some sudden impulse made Jaquelina shiver and lift her eyes half nervously.