Her heart sank.
"I'm only a little afraid they may think you are imitating Elgar," she murmured after a moment.
"Imitating Elgar!"
"Not that you are, or ever would do such a thing. It isn't your music, it's the subject, that makes me a little afraid. It seems to me to be an Elgar subject."
"Really!"
The conversation dropped, and was not resumed. But a fortnight later, when Charmian came to make tea in the studio, and asked as to the progress of the new work, Claude said rather coldly:
"I'm not going on with it at present."
She saw that he was feeling depressed, and realized why. But she was secretly triumphant at the success of her influence, secretly delighted with her own cleverness. How deftly, with scarcely more than a word, she had turned him from his task. Surely thus had Madame Sennier influenced, guided her husband.
"I believe I could do anything with Claude," she said to herself that day.
"Play me your Watson song again, Claudie," she said. "I do love it so."