“And were those your only reasons?”
“Give me a brandy-and-soda,” said the other.
Maine did as he was bid, lit a cigar, and sat down, stretching out his long legs. The other man took a pull at his glass, and spoke again.
“I am very fond of music,” he said; “and Melba sings very well.”
“Ah!”
“Look here, Maine,” Manning broke out suddenly, “you are right—I had another reason. Kipling says that those who have heard the East a-calling never heed any other voice. He's wrong though. The West has been calling me, or, at least, a voice in the West, and I have resisted it for a deuce of a time. But at last it became imperative.”
“A woman's voice, I suppose?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me what is its timbre, if you care to.”
“I will. You're an old friend, and I can talk to you. But you tell me one thing first: Is a man really a fool to marry a woman with a past?”