"I think of trying a violin concerto. That would be quite a new departure for me. But you know the violin was my second study at the Royal College."
"That won't do," thought Charmian.
"If only Kreisler would take it up when it is finished as he took up—" she began.
Claude interrupted her.
"It may take me months, so it's no use thinking about who is to play it. Probably it will never be played at all."
"Then why compose it?" she nearly said.
But she did not say it. What was the use, when she had resolved that the concerto should be abandoned as The Hound of Heaven had been?
She brought the young American, whose name was Alston Lake, to the studio. Claude took a fancy to him at once. Lake sang the Wild Heart, tried it a second time, became enthusiastic about it. His voice was a baritone, and exactly suited the song. He begged Claude to let him sing the song during the season at the parties for which he was engaged. They studied it together seriously. During these rehearsals Charmian sat in an armchair a little way from the piano listening, and feeling the intensity of an almost feverish anticipation within her.
This was the first step on the way of ambition. And she had caused Claude to take it. Never would he have taken it without her. As she listened to the two men talking, discussing together, trying passages again and again, forgetful for the moment of her, she thrilled with a sense of achieved triumph. Glory seemed already within her grasp. She ran forward in hope, like a child almost. She saw the goal like a thing quite near, almost close to her.
"People will love that song! They will love it!" she said to herself.