"It's only a trifle."
"I love it!" she repeated.
He sat down at the piano and played it to her once more. When he had finished she said:
"I've found someone who could sing that gloriously."
"Who?" he asked.
Playing the song had excited him. He turned eagerly toward her.
"A young American who has been studying in Paris. I met him at the Drakes' two or three days ago. Mr. Jacob Crayford, the opera man, thinks a great deal of him, I'm told. Let me ask him to come here one day and try the Wild Heart. May I?"
"Yes, do," said Claude.
"And meanwhile what are you working on instead of The Hound of Heaven?"
Claude's expression changed. He seemed to stiffen with reserve. But he replied, with a kind of elaborate carelessness: