“My dear fellow,” said Mr. Darlington, with unusual abandon, “Rosamund has made a really marvelous advance—marvelous. In that ‘Wiegenlied’ she reached high-water mark. No one could have sung it more perfectly. What has happened to her?”
“Robin,” said Dion, looking him full in the face, and speaking with almost stern conviction.
“Robin?” said Mr. Darlington, with lifted eyebrows.
Then people intervened.
In the carriage going home Rosamund was very happy. She confessed to the pleasure her success had given her.
“I quite loved singing to-night,” she said. “That song about Greece was for you.”
“I know, and the ‘Wiegenlied’ was for Robin.”
“Yes,” she said.
She was silent; then her voice came out of the darkness:
“For Robin, but he didn’t know it.”