“In Germany. It is where his operas are given as staged by Wagner himself. It is indescribably grand and inspiring–above all, the Parsifal!”
“I’ll most certainly take that in, even if I have to cut short my engagement in this gee-lorious clime–not but what, when it comes to leopard ladies–” He paused, and surveyed her with frank admiration.
The blood leaped into her face.
“Oh!” she gasped, “I never dreamed that even such a man as you would compare me with–with a creature like that!”
“Such a man as me!” repeated Blake, staring. “What do you mean? I know I’m not much of a ladies’ man; but to be yanked up like this when a fellow is trying to pay a compliment–well, it’s not just what you’d call pleasant.”
“I beg your pardon, Mr. Blake. I misunderstood. I–”
“That’s all right, Miss Jenny! I don’t ask any lady to beg my pardon. The only thing is I don’t see why you should flare out at me that way.”
For a full minute she sat, with down-bent head, her face clouded with doubt and indecision. At last she bravely raised her eyes to meet his.
“Do you wonder that I am not quite myself?” she asked. “You should remember that I have always had the utmost comforts of life, and have been cared for– Don’t you see how terrible it is for me? And then the death of–of–”
“I can’t be sorry for that!”